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•Ignted ia85 by George Munro—Entered at the Post Office at New York at second class rates— Sept. 7, 1985, 



THE 


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STRUCK DOWN 


A NOVEL. 


BY 

hawleV smart. 

M 



NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLIBHER, 

IT TO 27 Vandewater Street. 


V 


4 


STRUCK DOWK. 


Drake aud his captains, leavint? that historic game of howls on the 
Hoe, sally torih to scatter I be Armada, and shatter the power of 
the Spaniard for a3*e. Strange doings has that same harbor wit- 
nessed, and it is probable that during the early days of this cent- 
iiiy, besides the privateering which was hereditary to the place, and 
handed down b}' tradition from the times ot Elizabeth or earlier 
(they called it buccaneering then), there W’as a smartish trade done 
in Isantes cognac, laces, silks, etc., tor the Devon men had much 
the same taste for smuggling that characterized the whole of the 
south coast in those da^^s of heavy tariffs, and were bold sailors and 
keen traders to boot. 

Down upon Plymouth bar, as the quay running alongside the 
quaint little harbor is called, stands one of the queerest nautical 
taverns ever seen. There is no possibility ot mistaking it for any. 
thing else. Even troiu the outside you can picture the interior— the 
snugly curtained latticed window's, the low, dark unpolished mahog- 
any door- way, are all unmistakably indicative of the brass and dark- 
wood fittings within. You can see instinctively the cozy bar, tnu 
grant with the perfume of lemons, wine, and old Jamnica; the old 
china bowls and silver-mounted punch-ladles; the squat -stoppered 
Dutch-shaped bottles that deck the shelves; the poitentous sheat of 
long clay pipes, slender-stemmed, deep-bowled fellows, such as are 
not made in this country, but had evidently found their way across 
from Amsterdam or the Hague. You knew' there was a back parlor 
sacred to merchant-skippers, where endless pipes were smoked, 
where mighty jorums of punch w'ere consumed, and marvelous 
yarns were told with portentous solemnity and receiveil with un- 
questioning credulity. These men went “down to the sea in 
ships,'* and were cognizant of the strange things their class at times 
were witness to. It was no sailors’ public-house, nor could any one 
have deemed it so for a moment. It was a respectable tavern ot th^ 
old kind, the frequenters of which, if they took a deal of liquor— 
and they did— knew howto carry it discreetly. Many of the liahitiiea 
of the little pallor had their abode at the Golden Galleon. Tra- 
dition said that the house had been built out of the spoil that ac- 
crued to some freebooter for his successful share iu an attack on one 
ot those famous Spanish argosies. These rough sea-captains found 
the Galleon a pleasant resting-place during their brief holidays 
on shore. They met congenial society; they were handy to look 
after their owm immediate business; the tavern had a thoroughly 
nautical air pervading it — the liitle parlor, for instance, w^as not un, 
like a ship's cuddy; and lastly, John Black, the landlord, was one 


STRUCK DOWN. 


of themselves. John Black had gone to sea as a boy and worked 
his way up till he commanded first a small craft, and finally a clip- 
per engaged in the Chinese trade. 

After some thirty-five years afloat he cast about for sorre business 
in which to settle down and invest his savings, and thought hiinsclf 
fortunate when he acquired the good will and a twenty-one years' 
lease of the Golden Galleon, it was an old-fashioned house do- 
ing a good business when it came into John Black’s hands; but dur- 
ing the ten years’ he had conductf'd it it had thriven wonderfully, and 
more especially since the appearance of the Senora some half dozen 
years after John Black had established himself there. ATho she was 
exactly was somewhat of a mystery. She called the bluff old land- 
lord of the Galleon her father, and he invariably acknowledged 
her as his daughter; but how came the old sailor sire of this dark- 
eyed Spanisli-looking girl whose gait was haughty as a goddess’s, 
and whose black orbs positively lightened when crossed? 

Nobody had ever heard that John Black was married, and it was 
not till he had been some time installed at the Golden Galleon 
that the Senora made her appearance, and was briefly introduced to 
his cronies by John Black as “ my gal.” He was a taciturn man, 
and to inquiry about his wife briefly replied, “ dead,.” and volun- 
teered no further explanation of his matrimonial experiences. 
AVhere he was married or to whom was known only to himself ; but 
to judge from the Senora, her mother must have had Spanish or 
Creole blood in her veins. Girl as she was — child would almost 
express it better, foi Marietta was barely seventeen when she took 
possession of that cozy little bar — she soon became a presence in the 
house. She had been ver}’’ few weeks there before these blufl old 
sea-dogs were made to comprehend that Miss Black admitted no jest- 
iug, that, 3’onng as she was, she stood severely upon her dignity, 
and though treating her father’s customers with the utmost courtesy, 
she did it in right regal fashion. They were astonished at first, and 
half inclined to resent John Black’s “ gal ” giving herself such airs; 
but the sweetness of her manner, Ihesiiuniness of her smile, and the 
quick memory she showed tor all their little weaknesses, speedily 
subfiued any feeling of that kind. Sailors have usually a quick eye 
tor beauty, and the little parlor unanimously agreed that John 
Black’s daughter was a “crasher.” Tiiey varied a good deal in 
epithets; some of them characterized her as a “ bouncer,” but they 
all agreed on one point, coming back to their old nautical parlance, 
that the “Princess,” as they at that time dubbed her, was the 
trimmest craft that had been seen in these waters in their time. But 


c 


STRUCK DOWK. 


the “Princess” rather resented the title conferred upon her by 
what was technically known as “ the skipper’s room,’ and so the 
little coterie, who already stood in awe of Marietta’s hot passionate 
temper, w^ere driven to drop the appellation. Tney were much 
puzzled what to call their favorite, when the arrival of a Spanish 
captain solved the difficulty for them. It was not very often that 
foreigners troubled the snug little tavern, but somehow the 
Spaniard, who spoke English tolerably well, found his way there. 
He addressed Marietta as “ the Senora ” from the outset. She re- 
ceived it with dignified complacency, and from that moment it came 
to be her accepted title in the Golden Galleon. One could hard- 
ly call such a dashing black-browed brunette with the stateb^ man- 
ner of Marietta “ Miss Black,” and the new appellation certainly 
relieved the habitues of the house from what might be emphatically 
described as an unnamed difficulty. The Senora she became then, 
and the Senora she was widely known as still, tor she had the repu- 
tation of beiiiir the prettiest girl in Plymoulh, and m)>re than one 
idler made his way down to the Golden Galleon, and under pre- 
tense of assuaging his thirst sought for a glimpse of the presiding 
goddess. But such danglers soon found that this w^as no ordinary 
bar-maid. JIarietta was far from lavish of her smiles on such 
chance customers. To the old frequenters of the house she was all 
courtesy, but her manner to these new^-comers was very diCerent, 
and more than one expert in that description of flirtation had been 
})ut to confusion by the contemptuous indificrence with which his 
preliminary compliments had been received. 

Her beauty, the haughtiness with which she carried herself, and 
the somewdiat mysterious haze concerning her birth made the girl 
5n a way rather celebrated in the city. There was no denying it, 
she w'as a striking figure anywhere, and looked considerably above 
lier station. She had naturally good taste, and her father w'as lavish 
of money where she w^as concerned. But though she had many ad- 
mireis, no one could as yet be pointed out as having found favor in 
her sight There were tw'o acknowledged pretenders to her hand; 
one w^as a manly young sailor, w'ho, by his own dash and seaman- 
ship in one or two difficult situations, had had the good fortune to 
obtain the command of a fine ship, just after liis thirtieth year. 
The other was a much older man. Dave Skirley bad served under 
her father, but had not altogether prosi>ered in his piofession. He 
was seldom intrusted wbth a ship, hut had more often to content 
himself with the position of first mate— a dark, saturnine, some 
■what discontented man, as is apt to be the case with those wdth 


STRUCK DOWN". 


1 


whom life has gone askew. But this did not prevent his conceiving 
a passionate admiration for Marietta. The ISenora was tiiemlly to 
him, but he certainly could not say she was anything more; imieed, 
although his devotion must not only have been patent to the gii I 
herself, but to all those v»^ho frequented the house, Skirley most cer- 
tainly could n(>t boast of receiving any encourage.ment. Still, for 
the matter of that, neither perhaps could his younger rival, though 
in the skip‘per’s room there went round many a knowing wink and 
prediction that young Jack Furness would bring the haughty beauty 
to her bearings. Could Jack Furness liimself have been cross-ex- 
amined on this point he would have been far less confident than the 
coterie in the skipper's room. He had been away from Plymoiilh 
now U>r the best part of a year on a voyage to Australia, and had 
carried away with him no assurance whatever on the subject He 
had said as much as he' dared before leaving, but Marietta’s manner 
had made him afraid to risk all by coming to the point, so he had 
taken with him only a memory — not a promise — and could only 
trust to resuu'e his wooing when he returned from what he trusted 
would prove a prospeious trip. 

It was somewhat singular that such a handsome girl as Marietta 
had not an acknowledged lorer; but so it was, and she had only 
herself to thank for it. The 8enora was hard to please, and the 
man to attract her wayward fancy had apparently yet to 
come. 

Dave Skirley, when on shore, kept, as far as he dared, a some- 
what jealous watch over her proceedings. But upon two occasions, 
when Marietta had her suspicions roused concerning this espionage, 
she had flamed out with such violence as had made him wondrous 
shy of repealing the ottense. It wms hardly likely that a hot-tem- 
pered, passionate girl like tire oenora would submit to any un- 
licensed control. The sole being who had the slightest right to take 
cognizance of her proceedings wms her father, and blunt old John 
Black was about as likely to interfere wdth his high-spirited daugh- 
ter as to attempt lire draining the Sound. Nobody as yet had volun- 
teered the assertion that Marietta had a favored lov'er, and thus ac- 
counted for her indifference to the two pretenders to her hand. The 
girl had uncontrolled freedom, and at times delegated her duties to 
an assistant, but no whisper had ever gone abroad ot her being seen 
in company with one of the opposite sex. 

She was, when encountered out, either by herself or walking 
with a female companion, and the skipper’s room, in their “ to- 
bacco parliaments,” steadfastly believed that Jack Furness was tho 


■§ 


STRUCK UOWK. 


mau, and that though the maiden might be coy, her succumbing 
■vvas a mere mattei of time. 

“ Borne on 'em’s like that, you know,” said one of the oracles of 
the little parlor; “ they tills, and they backs, and they tails ofi, and 
they wants a light hand on the helm, or else you can do nothing 
with them. John Black’s daughter is just about as handsome and 
saucy as they make ’em. They’re a bit skear 3 ^ that kind, and re- 
quire delicate handling. It ain’t no usC attempting to capture them 
with a rush, bless yer! Jack Furness is a sailor every inch, he 
knows when the navigation’s difficult. Lord! the windings of some 
women’s heaits are like the shifting of the sands, in the ‘ James ’ and 
‘ Mary's,’ where you want to keep the lead going, as you all know, 
mates, every minute. "You can’t hurry through ’em. As 1 said 
before, Jack Furness knows w'hat he’s about 1” 

The old story. The lookers-on so often feel that they know more 
of our affairs than we do ourselves, till subsequent events show 
them how very little they really knew about it. Had there been a 
woman there to take note of Marietta’s tits, now of moody silence 
and now of quick irritability, she wmuld have suspected there was 
something amiss in her young life — would have divined there was 
something that troubled the current of her existence. But what 
were a lot of sailors likely to know about the stale of a girl’s heart? , 
A w'omaa could have had half a dozen lovers, and twisted the 
whole skipper’s room round her little finger to boot, without their 
knowing anything about it. The Senora kept her own counsel, 
and if she had a serious flirtation in hand, conducted it wdth discre- 
tion, and took good care that the hero should never be seen at the 
Golden Galleon. There is much danger of shipwreck in some 
of these back waters of life. Men, and women especially, run less 
clanger who keep in llie open channel. 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE CITADEL TRAGEDY. 

There was a mighty sound of revelry that summer night in the 
old citadel of Plymouth. Song and laughter rang out of the open 
windows of the mess-room, till their faint sounds well n’gh reached 
the ears of the loungers on the Hoe. Again and again did the band 
crash out in resonant tones the See-saw Waltzes, or the popular 
retrain of “ Wait till the Clouds roll by.” The claret jugs fairly 
danced round the table. There was a tendency on the part of the 


. STRUCK; DOWN. 


9 


whole party to break into vocal melody on faint pretext. Never 
had the officers ot the — th been in wilder spirits. Had they not. 
got their orders tor the East that morning, and were they not say- 
ing good-bye to their triends previous to closing their mess and. 
sending the plate to their bankers? 

There is a smack of the Viking blood in us still, 1 suppose, and 
like our progenitors we have a tendency to a night’s w-assail before 
betdking ourselves to our ships. Little heeded those gay spirits of 
the hard tare and still harder fighting that lay before them in 
Africa. The reflection that when next they met round the dinner, 
table in such fashion, many a face that now rippled with laughter 
would be cold and still forever, never crossed their minds. Men 
don’t think of such things at such times, the pulses beat quick/ 
and the blood courses swiftly through the veins, and nobody thinks 
but of the honor to be won, the rewards to be gathered, conjoined 
with a feverish thirst to have what is called “ a shy at the enemy.'* 
The fighting instinct is strong in man, and especially in the Anglo- 
Saxon race, when he deems his brethien are getting somewhat the 
worst of it; We ma}^ quarrel amongst ourselves, but it is something 
like the quarrel of husband and wife. Let any one interfere and 
he finds to his cost that their unanimity is wonderful. 

One man alone of all that joyous party seemed a little distrait— 
tall, good-looking young fellow, with che-lnut hair, and a bold 
gray eye. He joined in his comrades’ mirth to some extent, but it 
was in a somewhat half-hearted fashion, such as one w^ould hardly 
have expected from his physique and temperament. He gulped his 
wine down too in absent fashion, as a man does wdio only halt en. 
joys it. He glanced now and again impatiently at his watch, and 
when called upon to sing “ John Peel,” for the rendering of which 
lyric he was celebrated in the regiment, would have fain backed out 
of it, but this his comrades would not stand. He w^as compelled to 
troll out the grand old hunting-song, and they gave him a chorus 
which must have startled the very rabbits at Mount Edgecumbe. 

“ 1 say, Charlie, old man, you ain’t up to concert pitch by a long 
chalk to-night. Fancy you, the best man we’ve got to hounds in 
the regiment, not being able to throw your heart into your favorite 
song! Why, old chap, you’ve ground out ' John Peel ’ to-night as 
if you were a barrel-organ.” 

” AYell,” replied Clayford, ”1 suppose we can't always be in 
high spirits. You know 1 didn’t want to sing ‘John Peel,’ and 
for the best ot all possible reasons, 1 didn’t feel up to it. 1 don’t 
suppose such a wet blanket as I feel to-night ought ever to have 


]0 


STRUCK DOWJK. 


come to mess; bat lianx it all, Tom, I couldn’t be absent from our 
last. mess party. We all feel hipped at times, and this happens to 
be one of the days when 1 am off color.” 

Tom Leader looked at his friend for a moment, and then said- 
“ 1 tell you what it is, old fellow, the tun heie is about over for the 
present. You and 1 will just drop dowm the hill and look in at the 
theater for an hour or two. They tell me they’ve sot something 
rather tunny on, and we’ll be back here in time tor a grilled bone 
and a last cigar.” 

“Done with you, Tom,” rejoined 01a3Tord, as he rose; “ ITl 
just walk across to my rooms and scribble a couple ()f notes that 
1 want to go Iw the earl}^ post, and be back in imlf an hour at the 
outside.” And with this the young man, running through a gant- 
let of chaff about his early desertion, left the room. 

The band had been dismissed, the singing had for the time died 
away, and the revelers were consuming their tobacco over coffee, 
erratic whist, and perhaps still more erratic conversation, when 
suddenly one of the whist pla.yers paused, with the cards suspended 
5n his hand, and exclaimed, “ Surely that vvas a shot!” 

TTie card pi ayers stopped and pricked up their ears, but the bab- 
ble at the other end of the room rather precluded the hearing of 
anything but a very pi-onounced sound. 

“ By Jove!” exclaimed one of them, “ I think 1 heard a shot 
then. What’s the use of bothering our heads? it’s either some boys 
or pack of young roughs larking at the back of the citadel T he 
young beggars have got into the bottom of the ditch, most likely. 
Go on, Torrens, you to play. Put down that card that you’ve been 
keeping hanging over our heads, like the sword of Damocles; it’s 
the ace of trumps for a sovereign.” 

Suddenly there was a shai-y) knock at the door of the anteroom, 
and almost without wailing for permission to enter, the sergeant 
of the guard made his appearance. 

“Beg ])ardon, gentlemen; 1 want to see Captain Lockyer, the 
captain of the day. There has been murder done, gentlemen, and 
1 want his instructions about what I’m to do.” 

In an instant the whist table w as broke up. Conversation stopped, 
cigars were put upon one side; the whole room was on its feet at 
the ominous word “ murder,” and all eagerly crowded forward to 
bear what Sergeant Blane had to tell. 

Captain Lockyer luad promptly responded to his name. One of 
the whist players^-a gaunt^ grizzled veteran, who was senior major of 


STRUCK DOWK. 11 

the rejsjiment, stepped forward and said curtly: “ Tell your story to 
me, Blane; who’s been murdered, and where?” 

Mr. Clay ford, sir; he’s lying dead in his own quarters, and the 
revolver which killed him is lying by liis side.” 

” You’ve sent for the doctor, of course?” 

” Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant, ” and put a senliy on the door; 
but still I'm afraid it’s little any doctor can do for Mr. Clayford. 
I’ve seen many a dead man before, sir, and 1 fear there can be no 
mistake about his case.” 

” Get your cap, Lockyer; you and 1 must walk across and inves* 
tigale this at once.” 

“Good God! it’s too horrible,” burst from Tom Leader's lips; 
” wLy, his song is hardly out of our ears, and to think poor Char- 
lie Clayford is now lying dead within about two hundred yards of 
us!” 

” His revolver lying by the side of him,” said auotner. “It is 
curious,” and his voice dropped as he murmured, ” he can’t have 
been his own murderer, surely.” 

By this time. Major Griffith and Lockyer had left the room, and 
the others continued to discuss their comrade’s death with bated 
breath. All revelry and mirth had died out of the party, as well it 
might. A favorite brother officer snatched from them in such ter- 
rible and unexpected fashion, w^as enough to make the most reckless 
serious. 

” Leader, you were perhaps more a pal of his than any of us. Do 
you think he was in trouble or difficulty of any kind?” 

” Ceitainly not, that I know of,” replied Tom; ” but poor Char- 
lie was always rather a reserved man, and, as you know, amused 
himself a great deal with that boat he keeps down on the Bar. I’ve 
been out with him two or three times; but sailing about the Sound 
is slow work to my mind, as i suppose it was to most of the rest of 
you, for 1 don’t think that any one but myself has ever had a turn 
with him.^’ 

” But surely he had somebody else with him to help manage the 
boat?” remarked another of the group. 

” Yes, he had the sailor who took charge of it. Poor Charlie, j^ou 
know, was a very good seaman himself, and the two of them w^eie 
ample.” 

At this juncture Major Griffith and Lockyer, accompanied by the 
regimental surgeon, returned. 

‘‘It is only too true,” said the major, solemnly. “Poor Clay- 
ford is lying on the floor of his barrack- room, quite dead. Ilia 


12 


STKCCK DO^T]S^. 


blottin. 2 :-book is open on the table, and the ink is hardly dry on his 
pen. Ihe aoctor here will tell you more about it, however, than 1 
can.” 

“ YeS,” replied the surgeon, “ the poor tellow has two bullet 
wounds, one of which would probably have caused deatii. From 
Ihe other, death must have been instantaneous. How it has all 
come about is, ot course, a complete ui 3 ’stery ior the present; and a 
thing. I should think it would be, for the police to unravel. All 
we have ascertained so lar is that the sentry at the back of the offi- 
cers’ quarters heard the twm shots, and passed the word down to the 
guard -room. Sergeant Blane instantly sent the corporal and a file, 
ol men to patrol that W'ay, and see if there was anything amiss; but 
they heard or saw nothing. The discovery was made by the poor 
fellow’s servant, who, having occasion to go into the room, found 
bis master stretched lifeless on the carpet, and at once gave the 
alarm. There has naturally been no time to make much inquir}'; 
but there is one singular circumstance, namely, that the revolver, of 
which twm chambers have been emptied, and with w'hich the fatal 
■wounds were doubtless inflicted, has been abandoned by the assas- 
sin. It is an instinct with most murderers to make aw^ay if possible 
with tbe vreapon with -which their crime was committed.” 

An awe-slruck silence fell over the whole room, and sad glances 
Were exchanged among the men. The siiigeon saw in their faces 
the thought that possessed them. 

“Ho,” he exclaimed, “we have certainly no right to come to 
that conclusion at prisenl, till, in conjunction with two or three ot 
my colh‘agues, 1 have made a more thorough examinulion. It 
would be premature to offer my opinion as to whether tlie injuiies 
weie self-inflicted. But Ibis, 1 presume, is a fact that can very 
t^asily be corroborated. His servant declares that lire pistol was not 
the property of his master; and, indeed, that poor Clay ford did not 
own such a weapon.” 

“ Well,” rep ied Leader, ” Jennings has been his servant for the . 
Jast three years, and is no doubt thoroughly acquainted with all 
poor Charlie’s belongings; besides, 1 certainly have good reason to 
think that he did not own a revolver, as 1 know he has ordered one 
expressly to take out for this campaign.” 

“ Ah! it’s hardly flkely,” said the major, thoughtfully, “ that a 
man who possessed an excellent revolver like the one found would 
■want to get another. However, we’ve done all there is to be done 
to-night; we have locked up his quarters, and sent messages down 
both to 11 le police and the general to say what has occurred. There 


STRUCK DOWK. 


13 


will have to be an inquest to-morrow, and perhaps that will throw 
some lisjht on the mystery. And qow, lads, I’m off to bed. 1 don’t 
suppose any of you fvill have more heart to make a night of it than 
1 have. Good-nii*:!!!!” and with these woids the major left the 
room. The remainder of the group continued to converse ^’or some 
time longer. Many a reminiscence of their dead comrade’s good 
qualities vvas evoked. The man on whose grave his acquaintances 
are readj^ to cast stones instead of floral tributes must have made 
himself strangely unpopular during his caner. As a rule, 1 fancy, 
men are never judged more kindly than in the flrst days succeeding 
their decease. Charlie Claytord, in spite of a certain reticence of 
character, had been an undoubtecly popular man in his regiment, 
and his sudden and mysterious death awoke much sympathy and 
sorrow among his brother officers. 


CHAPTER 111. 

THE CORONER’S INQUEST. 

The news of the crime spread mysteriously through Plymouth in 
the course of the night, and the more enterprising reporters of the 
local journals were in the citadel shortly after the rewille bad rung 
out. The morning papers contained a few lines giving notice of 
the shocking murder of an officer in the citadel, and promising fur- 
ther particulars in a later edition. As the rumor spread, and some 
meager particulars concerning it leaked out, public excitement began 
to be aroused. The police naturally kept their opinion to them’ 
selves, but it was whispered that the midday train had brought an 
eminent officer from Scotland Yard, while it was known that the 
night mail had brought down a couple of reporters from leading 
London journals. There was something romantic about an oflicer 
being murdered in his own barracks, ana already speculation was 
rife in the London clubs about how the dead man came to his end. 
Had he been Rilled by his own men? Was it robbery? Tiiat an 
officer should be murdered is in modern days a case almost with- 
out parallel, and then the club cynics shook their heads, and over 
their seltzer and cognac in the smoking-room, mattered, “ Clierchez 
la femme.'' Jealousy has brought about strange things before now. 

The next day came the coroner’s inquest. Jennings, Clayford’s 
servant, who was the first witness examined, deposed to going into 
his master’s room to put it finally to rights previous to going to his 
own bed, and thereby discovering Lieutenant Claytord stretched 


14 


STRUCK DOWN. 


lifeless on (he carpet. There was a discharged revolver lyin^r by his 
side, which he picked up and laid upon the table; was pertectly 
certain that the pistol was not his master’s property. He had never 
hati a pistol of any sort since he had been in his service; had been 
with the deceased three years, and packed the whole of his baggage 
four times in that period; was pertectly certain he did not possess a 
pistol ; could not say where it was now, but the police took posses- 
sion ot it, and he supposed had it still. 

Then came the sentry’s evtdence, who was on the ramparts in the 
roar of the officers’ quarters. He deposed distinctly to having heaul 
tw'o shots, w’as quite certain about there being two shots, and that 
they came in quick succession. He passed (he word to the next 
sentry, with a view to its being passed again till it arrived at the 
guard-room, and that was all he knew on the subject. 

Sergeant Blane deposed that he sent a corporal and a file of the 
guard to see it there was anything wrong, but they saw nothing 
and discovered no strangeis about; and it w’as not until apprised by 
Private Jennings of the murder of Mr. Claylord that he proceeded 
at once to place a sentry over the quarters, to send for the surgeon, 
and report the circumstance to the captain of the day. 

Major Griffith and Captain Lock3^er simply deposed to having been 
summoned to the spot, but acknowledged their inability to throw 
any light on the subject. 

Then came the medical evidence, and the regimental surgeon and 
two of his confreres gave evidence concerning the bullet- wounds. 
That these liad been the cause of death there can be no doubt. The 
interest attaching to their evidence was contained in the question, 
Could the dead man, by any possibility, have died by his own hand? 
They di^eied a little in their opinion about ihat, but agieed on one 
point, that without absolutely declaring it was impossible, they cer- 
tainly did not think so. In their judgment the shots liad been fired 
by another hand. 

And now came the sensation of the inquiry. That as many peo- 
ple as could obtain admittance were present at the back of (be room 
was to be expected, and in the fi^nt of their ranks were several ot 
the dead man’s brother officers. Tliey had a natural claim to hear 
the proceedings, which had been thoroughly acknowdedged by the 
coroner. The police now produced the pistol with which the crime 
had been accomplished. It was a very handsome one and a rather 
remarkable weapon— a saw-handled Dean and Adams’s five-cham- 
bered revolver. Ot the chambers, as the police pointed out, three 
were still loaded and two had evidently been recently discharged. 


STKUCK -DOW]S^. 


15 


•JcDnings was recalled, aod at once swore unbesitalingly that that 
was the pistol he had picked up by his master’s body and placed 
upon the table, adding, in reply to a question by the coroner, that 
he had never seen it before. 

“ Tiiat pistol should hang the Iran that used it,” remarked a 
quiet, plainly dressed man in the body of the room. There was 
nothing in the least striking about his personal appearance, indeed, 
he was a man you might pass anywhere without his attracting your 
attention; but he seemed interested in the proceedings, and well he 
might be, for he had been sent down specially from Scotland Yard 
to walch the inquiry. 

“ When you’ve a weapon like that to deal with,” muttered In- 
spector Pollock to himself, ” you have something to go upon. A 
pistol turned out by well-known makers will naturally have the 
number on it. It is easy to trace where it went W’hen it left their 
shop, and with a little trouble it should be tracked to the very hand 
that used it.” 

Inspector Pollock’s theory was destined to be demolished almost 
as quickly as it had been formed. Among the officers watching the 
proceedings with painful interest w^as Tom Leader. He started 
slightly when he saw the pistol, and stepping forward said to the 
coroner; 

“ Will you allow me to look at that pistol for a minute? 1 think 
1 can give you some possibly useful information.” His request was 
immediately complied with, and the revolver put into his hands, 
lie examined it attentively, and then, considerably to the astonish- 
ment of the court, said: ” This pistol is my property. 1 bought 
it rather more than a year ago in Loudon from the makers; it has 
never been out of my possession, and to the best of my belief was 
hanging in its case Irom a peg in my barrack-room.” 

Further questioned by the coroner. Leader said that it w'as kept 
unloaded, and, whal was more, that he had no cartridges with which 
to load it in his possession. Inspector Pollock show^ed great interest 
in this part of the proceedings. It seemed now that the pistol must 
have been stolen from Leader’s room, and the questions that arose 
in the officer’s mind were, who was likely to have had facilities for 
so doing? and, more important still, when had it been stolen? 

“ Then you have never missed the pistol, Mr. Leader?” inquired 
the coroner. 

” No,” replied Tom, ” 1 rarely looked at it. My servant will be 
more likely to be able to tell you about it than me, as he had orders 


16 


STRUCK DOWK. 


to take it down occasionally to see if it wanted cleanint^, and 1 pre- 
sume did so.” 

“ Is he here?” was the next question asked by the coroner. 

But no. Mr. Leader’s servant was not in court, and it was quite 
evident that the investigation could hardly be deemed complete 
without his evidence. However, the production of this man was a 
simple question of time. They had simply to send fiom the hotel 
in which the inquest was being held up to the barracks and tell 
Private Simmons that his presence was required at the Royal. 
Meantime they might adjourn for an hour. 

The hour was passed by the court in the consumption of refresh- 
ments. The oflScers of the — th were perfectly astounded at the 
turn things had taken, and Tom Leader dashed up to the citadel at 
a pace that would have made the keenest deer-stalker that ever 
breasted hill in Highland forest stand still. He ran across the bar- 
rack square asTast as his legs could carry him, rushed into his room 
and took down the revolver-cjise. He recognized at once that it 
was empty. The opening of it was a mere matter of form. 

Now, before Leader had left the court-house he had been called 
aside by his colonel, who was present among the rest. 

” You are going up,” said the chief. *' no doubt to see if that pis- 
tol is gone. I have just been spoken to by an official from Scotland 
Yard, who has made it a particular request that you will not see your 
servant before he is brought here; he has also further desired that, 
if possible, he should have no intimation of what has taken place in 
court or tor what he is wanted.’^ 

Tom Leader naturally complied with his chief’s hint, and, it so 
happened, accident favors Inspector Pollock, and Simmons, wdun 
he was brought forward to give evidence, had no idea of what had 
transpired in the course of the proceedings. 

Questioned aboui the pistob the inspector, watching him keenly, 
noted that Simmons first looked considerably puzzled. He evidently 
did not understand what bearing this could possibly have on the 
((uestion in hand. 

” Was that his master’s pistol?” 

‘‘ Yes, he believed so— it was, at all events, exactly like it.” 

” When did he see it last?” 

” lie could hardly say for certain; but a week or ten days ago ho 
took it out and cleaned it, and supposed it was still hanging up in 
Mr. Leader’s room. Was accustomed to clean it about once a 
week.” 

” Was it loaded when he last put it away?” 


STRUCK DOWK. 17 

“ Certainly not. Was perfectly positive on that point. It had 
never been kept loaded since his master had had it.” 

“ Had his master any cartrid^^es in his quarters?’' 

For ail instant the man looked puzzled. He hesitated a little, 
and inspector Pollock keenly noted the same. 

“1 don’t know whether he did it,” thought the inspector; 

probably not, but this question certainly bothers him.” 

“No,” replied Simmons, after a minute’s thought, “there was 
not a single cartridge in my master’s rooms, nor hiis there ever been 
one.” 

The jury looked puzzled, the coroner aparently was also taken 
somewhat aback by the turn things had taken. As for Inspector 
Pollock, he quietly muttered to himself: “ This promises to be 
rather an interesting conundrum. 1 have an idea that fellow Sim- 
mons is somehow not telling the Iriith, quite. 1 w'onder if he knew 
that revolver was lost, or more probable still, having forgotten to 
attend to it for the last month, is rather afraid of confessing his 
negligence?” 

“ In short,” resumed the coroner, turning sharply to the wit- 
ness, “ you had no knowledge of the disappearance of your master’s 
revolver, are perfectly sure it was unloaded when yon last saw it, 
and are quite ocriain that there never were any cartridges in your 
master’s' possession?” 

“ Never during the three years 1 have been his servant,” replied 
Simmon^, and tliis time without a moment’s hesitation. 

One or two of the witnesses were recalled. Mr, Leader was re- 
examined tor one; also the sentry in rear of the officers’ quarters, 
and Sergeant Plane; but no fresh fact was elicited. No one could 
recollect seeing any stranger loitering about the vicinity of the 
officers’ quarters on that evening at that time: and then the coroner 
proceeded to sum up. 

It seemed to him, he said, that there could be little doubt that the 
deceased came to his end by wounds inflicted from the discharge of 
Mr. Leader’s pistol. He had not thought it necessary to call upon 
that gentleman for any account of his whereabouts on that evening 
— it being well known lliat the majority of bis brother officers could 
testify to his being present in the mess apartments at the time Die 
crime was committed. Who had taken Mr. Leader’s revolver from 
bis room, and when; they had no evidence before them to determine, 
bill granted— which there seemed little reason to doubt — it had been 
extracted some days previously, the assassin had doubtless no diffi- 
culty in procuring cartridges to fit a revolver by such well-knowa 


IS 


STJIUCK DOVVJs". 


makers as Dean & Adams, As for Private ^^immons, he could doubt- 
less account for where he was upon that unfortunate evening. It 
appeared to him that the revolver had undoubtedly been stolen some 
cla3^s previously and used against Mr. Clayford by some one thor- 
oughly conversant with his movements, and for some occult reason, 
which it would be for others to determine. The only other view of 
the case which could possibly be sustained w’as that tlie unfortunate 
gentleman had committed suicide. The medical evidence w’as 
directlj^ though perhaps not conclusively against this— nor had the 
slightest motive been adduced for suggesting the rash act. If the 
jury w'ould consent to be guided by him, they w^ould return a ver- 
dict of “ AYillf ul 3lurder ” against some person or persons unknown. 

After some few minutes’ consideration the jiirv came to the same 
conclusion as the coroner, and registeretl their decision that Ciiailcs 
Clayford, Lieutenant in Her Majesty’s— th Infantry, came to his 
death by Willful Murder, the perpetrators of which had yet to be 
discovered. 


CHAPTER lY. 

INSPECTOK POLLOCK. 

That the day’s proceedings would be discussed over and over 
again, both in the officers’ quarters and in the barrack-rooms, was 
only to be expected. Simmons, again cross-examined his mas- 
ter, said he could not be quite sure as to when he bad last seen the 
revolver in its case. ‘He had thought about cleaning it again only 
the day before the murder. Questioned by liis colonel, he viras quite 
positive it had not been loaded when he saw it last. The whole 
thimr seemed a mystery. There w^as no apparent motive for the 
murder of any description. Tlie dead man’s watch — the rings on 
Ills lingcT.s — the loose money in his pockets— even a note-case con- 
vriining four or five bank-notes, w hich was lying on the mantel-piece, 
were all thei’e. It seemed clear that lobbciT had not been the as- 
sassin’s object. The committee of officers wdio assisted, with Sim- 
mons, to examine his property pending such time as some one or 
(>ther of his relatives should arrive, reported that nothing was 
missing, and all conjecture as to wdio bad slain poor Clayford, and 
lor w’hat reason, baffled all conjecture. At Loader’s suggestion a 
general overhauling of their quarters w^as made by the officers, with 
a view' of seeing if anybody else had been plimdered, Tom thinking 
it w’as just possible that, if robbery bad been the object, the thief 
might have cleared out light valuables from one or tw’o other rooms 


STRUCK DOWK. 


19 


and “then been detected just as he was about to pick up what prop- 
erty he could in his (Clayford’s) room; but no, the sole thing miss- 
ing was the pistol which hail been taken from the one room and 
found in the other. 

How loaded and wh}^ loaded? this was a problem that seemed 
inscrutable. An ordiuaiy thief could scarcely have calculated on 
finding the pistol at all For w^as it likely that it would enter his 
hoad to bring cartridges for it in his pocket. True, there were 
plenty of cases in which the burglar, disturbed in his avocation, had 
not hesitated to take life to insure his own safet}’; but then this was 
invariably a professional burglar, and he brought his own revolver. 
Fow, a barrack, except perhaps the police office, was the last place 
that a professional burglar would have ever dreamed of exercising 
his talent on. Fo, it did not require to be skilled in the investiga- 
tion of crime to come to that conclusion; but when they had settled 
that, whatever the motive for the murder, it was not robbery, the 
officers of the — ih had got to the end of their speculation. Fur- 
ther, they W'ere like men who groped in utter darkness. 

But there had been a gentleman up to solicit a private inlervitnv 
with Major Griffith, who w'as at that time in command of the regi- 
ment, owing to the temporary absence of the colonel, and whose 
life was passed in unraveling mysteries of this description. Inspector 
Pollock had entirely dismissed robbery from his mind at the inquest- 
Having introduced himself to the major, he had requested leave to 
first of all take a thorough examination of thequariers in which the 
crime had occurred. 

“ 1 don’t wumt to disturb anything, sir; audit will take me a very 
short lime to see all 1 want; but the whole plan of the rooms is an 
assistance to a professional like myself. We see thinas, for in- 
stance, which an untrained eye is apt to overlook, i presume theso 
quarters only consist of tw'o or three rooms?” 

” Of two small rooms on the grounii- floor communicating with 
each other, with a servant’s kitchen on the basement. There is one 
similar set of quarters overhead. The officers' quarters, as yau will 
see, are a low range of little houses all similar to that.” 

” Adjoining, 1 suppose, like houses in a terrace, but with no com- 
munication betw’eeii them?” 

” Quite so; to get from one to the other you would have to go 
either out of the front door, or the back door.” 

” Ah!” said the inspector, ” there is a bach door and a front door. 
1 have had a rough look at the place before 1 came to speak to you. 
The front door, 1 notice, looks out on the barrack square. 1 pre-^ 


^0 


struck downs’. 


sume, till quite a late hour, there will be always people moving 
more or less in the iront?” 

“ Quite possible,” replied the major; “though after ten o’clock 
there would not in all probability be many people about.” 

“ 2 \ikI at the back?” inquired the inspector. 

“ Hardly so, 1 should think. Ton see the last post goes at half- 
past nine; we allow no strangers round the ramparts or in the citadel 
after that, and though theie may be a sprinkling of servants of one 
*soit or another who don’t proceed to their beds until later, there 
would be tery few of them who w^ould come out the hack way.” 

“ And in the shadow of Hie buildings it w'ould be easy for any 
one to escape the observation of the sentry?” 

“ 1 should think so, but he would have to pass the citadel gate, 
and Sergeant Blane, who w^as in chaige of the guard that night, is 
one of our smartest non commissionpd officers, and would be very 
unlikely to let a man through before gun-fire who could not give a 
-satisfactory account of himself.” 

Inspector Pollock buried his face in his handkerchief to conceal 
the smile that the idea of an astute criminal not being too much for 
the sharpest non- commissioned ofiicer in Her Majesty ’s service caused 
him. ’ . 

“ And Mr. Leader’s qiiarteis, were they in the same house, sir?’^ 
he inquired. 

“ Kor they are in the next house,” replied the major. 

“Thank you, sir. 1 will just have a good look at the rooms 
then; and there is only one more favor I have to ask.” 

“ TV hat is that?” asked the major. 

“ Somebod}^ of course, will examine the effects of Mr. Clayford. 
It it is possible 1 should like to assist at the examination. The clew 
1 want may very likely exist among his papers, though the gentle- 
man who looks through them would probably never suspect it.” 

“ Well, inspector,” rejoined the major, “I’ll do hat lean for 
you. Our custom here is, that three of the senior officers make a 
sort of inventory of the deceased’s effects, and 1 don’t think that i 
have any right lo let you be present at that; you see poor Clayford’s 
relatives have of course been written to, and it will be for them lo 
look through his papers and that sort of thing. You shall know of 
their arrival at once, and 1 will put your request before them, hut 1 
think the decision must be left to them. If they choose to show 
you any letters or papers he has left behind him. well and good; 
but the}^ aie the people to give such permission, not 1.” 

• “ Quite BO, sir,” rejoined Inspector Pollock. “ 1 have a few in- 


STliUCK DOWI^". 


21 


quiries to make, which will certainly detain me here tor the next 
two or three days. One tiling? more, sir! Perhaps you would not 
mention my bein^ here at all. more than is absolutely necessary. 
Good-mornirrg,sir!” and with that Inspector Pollock left the major’s 
quarters in that quictt abrupt, noiseless manner which v^as one of 
his characteristics both on entering and leaving any place. He had 
a knack of appearing in this noiseless tashiou when least expected, 
j^ind of disappearing again with startlimr and cat-like abruptness. 

Mr. Pollock lost no time; he was over and examining the scene 
of the murder in less than ten minutes. Not a door, not a window, 
not a bolt, not a bar, not a corner, not a detail of the furniture, es- 
cap(d his keen scrutiny. By the time he had finished he could have 
catalogued the whole of the latter as it he had been a broker’s man. 
He was down in the basement, casting shrewd looks at the boot- 
trees, and even eying the blacking-bottles with curiosity. He as- 
cended to the quarters overhead, and their occupant having already 
left tliem in search of breakfast, he had ample time to take stock of 
them; then he asked, “ was it possible to just have a look at Mr., 
Leader’s quarters?” That officer was in; hut ou learning that a 
gentleman wished to see him, promptly desired that he should be 
shown in. Briefly Mr. Pollock explained that he came on behalf 
of the police— though that he was of the London police he retrained 
from mentioning. However, that was quite sufficient for Tom, 
who immediately offered him every facility for investigation. How- 
ever, the inspector conlented himself with a very brief glance round 
the rooms, and even when shown the case from which the revolver 
was missing, and which was still hanging in its accustomed place, 
seemed very little interested. He did not ask to see the basement or 
the quarters overhead. Mr. Pollock, in short, had ascertained all 
lif3 wanted to know— namely, that Mr. Leader’s quarters were the 
fac-simile of the dead man’s. 

As he walked away Mr. Pollock shook his head. ‘‘ This is about 
as blind a case,” he muttered, “ so far, as ever 1 started on. That 
fellow Simmons has to be reckoned up as a matter of course. Easy 
enough, 1 take it, to get at the character he bears in the regiment, 
and whether Mr. Clayford could have ever incurred his animosity. 
Next, if they will only show me any of tlie dead man’s papers that 
1 may ask to see— upon getting a general idea of their contents, it’s 
on the cards, something might come out of that. 1 should think 
an officer’s papers of his rank would be very soon run through. A 
few letters, a tew bills, receipted or otherwise, and a few memo- 
randa, would be all he would be likely to have. There are very few 


STRUCK DOWN. 


00 
/V -v 


men but what leave letters behind them. \es; a irlimpse at his 
might throw a light upon his death. I’d give something to know 
what sort of man this relative of his will be.” 

For the next two days Inspector PollocK was indefatigable, and 
the information he contrived to acquire in that fort 3 ^-eight hours 
would have dunDounded Ma.ior Griffith and his officers, to whom 
the crime seemed utterly inscrutable, and astonished the Plymoiitli 
police not a little. But >lr. Pollock kept his information strictly 
to himself. He turned up unexpectedly at all sorts of place s. lie 
had made his way into the sergeants’ mess, and knew Private 
Simmons’s character quite as well as his captain did. lie had as- 
certained lhat he was rather a slovenly soldier on parade, and had 
two or three times been brought up rather shaiply by Mr. Clayford 
for that offense. He had very soon got at the fact of the dead 
man’s passion for boating, lhat was quite hint enough tor ^Ir. 
Pollock; he was down upon the Bar as quick as possible. He had 
found out the boat, and the sailor in charge of it, in a very short 
lime. Mr. Pollock knew from experience that an alonsr-shore sailor 
has always a thirst upon him. After a little pleasant conversation, 
in which he took a lively interest in the tides, currents, and other 
nautical matters, of which it was quite evident to old Bill Coffin the 
pleasant-spoken gentleman was profoundly ignorant, Mr. Pollock 
suggested a little refreshment at the nearest tavern. 

“ Will a weasel suck a rabbit? 

As a thing of course he stops, 

And with most voracious swallow 
Walks into my mutton chops.” 

It was very unlikely that Bill Coffin was going to refuse gratu- 
ilous refreshment from anyone, and he suggested that theium at the 
Golden Galleon was soft and pleasant to take, and that they could 
get a bite there as well as anywhere. So to that place the pair ad- 
journed, and when they were comfortably seated, and each fur- 
nished with a tumbler of somethiner to his own satisfaction, Mr, 
Pollock said, quietl}^ ” 1 suppose you were very much astonished 
to hear of the murder of Mr. Clayford?” 

‘‘ Indeed I was; and main sorry to hear it, too, sir. Pie was a 
good gentleman, a good sailor, and a thorough good friend to me. 
He would often give me an odd pound in the winter, when the boat 
wns laid up, to help me through the haul time. You see, sir, we 
sailors find it hard to get along then; there is not much work tor us 
to do.” 


STRUCK DOWX. 23 

“Ah! i dare sa}" you’ve bad many a glass here with poor Mr. 
'Claytord, after a long day in the Sound.” 

“ Ko, sir; 1 don’t think Mr. Claytord ever set toot in the bouse, 
lie vvas not much given to this soit of thing, and very rarely finished 
the flask be biougbf down from the citadel with him,” 

* Odd that, too,” replied Mr. Pollock, “ with such a handsome 
girl as 1 saw sitting in the bar. 1 should have thojght no young 
jrentleman given to br-ating but what would have iiad a glass here, 
it it were only tor an excuse to talk to her.” 

\Aell, this ain't a house, you see, sir, at all frequented by the 
soldier orificeis. The Senora, you see, is don’t caie about that sort 
of thing.” 

“ The — what did you call her?” inquired the inspector, sharply. 

“ Well, i call her ' Miss;’ but that’s the name the captains have 
given her. It’s a great house, 3^011 see, with the merchant skippers.- 
There’s a room here they call the skipper’s parlor, and keep entirely 
for them ” 

“Well, 1 must be going,” rejoined Mr^ Pollock; and, having 
paid for the refreshments, he wished his guest good-da}% and passed 
out on to the quay. 

In spite of all the information he had acquired the inspector could 
not as yet be said to have made any satisfactory progress. This 
discovery of Mr. Clayfoid’s passion for boating had led him no fur- 
ther. It did not seem to connect him with anybody, with the excep- 
tion of Bill Coffin. Mr. Pollock was disappointed. He thought 
when he came to the Golden Galleon, and caught a glimpse of tliat 
handsome girl presiding at the bar, he was about to find that Cla}'- 
ford was an hahitue of the house; but apparently he had never set 
foot in it, and, at all events, was not given to philandering wdth 
IMiss Black. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE INSPECTOR MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE. 

That the citadel murder should be much discussed in the skip- 
per’s pallor at the Golden Galleon was only natural. A tragedy of 
that description is usually the common topic of conversation in the 
place w'here it occurs for some days. One or two of the habitues of 
the parlor had occasionally exchanged good-day and an opinion 
about the weather, with the slain man on the quay, when he came 
down to his boat, but it was diflicult to account for the greed.y inter- 
est with w’hich Dave Bkirley tollowed every particular of the crime. 


24 


STRUCK DOWK. 


unless he was one of those natures for w^hoin the horrible and gro- 
tesque contains a morbid interest. Dave W’as alvva^^s possessed of the 
latest paper, and the very last bit of gossip connected with the 
afiair. It was noticed that he departed from his usual habits. 
VVhereas, when on shore, it was his custom never to stray very far 
from the barbican, he was now perpetually penetrating to the 
upper town, with apparently the sole object of seeking further in- 
formation on the subject of the citcdel murder. His professional 
brethren even joked him about it, and inquired whether he was re- 
tained to give assistance to the police in the matter, to which Skir- 
ley rejoined grimly that such things always interested him; he was' 
curious to know how the chap felt who had fired those two shots, 
just now; and wound up by muttering, It would be a queer thing 
if he was to discover the criminal after all.” 

TV hen the news of the murder reached the Benora’s ears she was 
seated in the bar of the Golden Galleon, and, turning white as a 
sheet, she buried her face in her hands, and exclaiming, ” It is too 
horrible!” in another minutedashed out of the bar to her own apart- 
ment. It was Skiiley who brought her the news, and one or two 
other loungers at the counter were much astonished to see the stately 
Benora so moved. 

It was a day or two after the inquest that the Golden Galleon felt 
quite a glow of enthusiasm at the return of one of its steady fre- 
quenters. Jack Furness suddenly arrived, and, shaking hands with 
the Senora, he asked if he could have a room. Marietta’s pale face 
lit up, and she welcomed the new arrival with a faint smile, as she 
said, “Toil are unexpected, Captain Furness, as we saw by the 
paper that you had put into Falmouth.” 

“ So 1 did,” replied Jack; “ but Falmouth don’t suit me, nor any 
other place, half so well as the Golden Galleon. Tou’il be stili 
more astonished when you hear that I’ve been in Plymouth for the 
jast five days.” 

“ Been in Plymouth five days, Captain Furness, and never came 
to see us!” 

Jack Furness was a sanguine man, but his heart misgave him. 
There are many ways of saying those words, and even tlie yuiing 
skipper upon this occasion could not flatter himself that their true 
interpretation was, “ without coming to see me.” 

“ I couldn’t help it. Marietta; it was only upon the most urgent 
business, and, indeed, at the express orders of the owners, that 1 
left the ship at Falmouth. I arrived here last Wednesday afternorm 
—the very day of that terrible murder in the citadel. Yes, and some- 


^TKUCK DOW]^. 


25 


thing 1 heard. Marietta, sent me, as you know, to the citadel that 
very atternoon. 1 found letters at uiy agent’s, and among them 
one quite recently written, evident!}" in anticipation of my arrival.” 

“ It is no concern of mine. Captain Furness,” lejoined the senoia, 
urawing herself up proudly. “1 have no wish to inquire as to 
what took you to the citadel. A walk round the ramparts is always 
pleasant,” but the hardness of the tones and the quivering of the 
girl’s lips showed what an effort it cost her to speak in such fashion. 

” Say it is not true. Marietta,” he whispered in low", passionate 
tones. 

‘‘ 1 do not understand you,” she replied, coldly; and here the in- 
flux of two or three ship captains, who gave Furness a boisterous 
welcome, and insisted upon his having at once a glass with them, 
cut short the conversation. 

This very afternoon Inspector Pollock stumbled across a piece of 
information which he foresaw at once would be a most important 
feature in the investigation of the murder. He had struck up a great 
iniimac}" with Sergeant Biane — in fact he had already made himself 
generally a favorite in the sergeants’ mess. They regarded him as 
connected with the local press. 

”1 suppose, sergeant,” said Mr. Pollock, in his usual off-hand 
manner, ‘'it is impossible to get out of the citadel except either 
through the gate or the sally-port; and yet, looking over the ram- 
parts, there are one or two places where 1 fancied an active man 
might descend into the ditch and even get up the other side ” 

“■you are quite right,” replied the sergeant; ‘‘we know it by 
experience, because some of our chaps have occasionally broke out 
in that fashion. One or two of the easiest are under the eye of the 
sentries, but still there are one or tw"o more where it is no doubt 
(piile practicable; but there is one thing rather a stopper— -you see 
llie getting in again is a very different matter. Getting down a 
wall is one thing, getting up one is another.” 

“Ah, quite so,” said Mr. PoliocK. “I forgot that,” and he 
adroitly turned tlie conversation. 

For his object it was not in the least essential that a man should 
be able to get into the citadel; but it was certainly something, with 
regard to the murder, to know that an active man could get out after 
the gate was closed. Although suspecting that Simmons had not told 
the whole truth about the revolver, the inspector in his owm mind ac- 
quitted him of any knowledirc of the murder. His theory now' was, 
that W'hoever the assassin might be, he came from the outside, and 
must have made his escape after the manner indicated by Sergeant 


20 


STRUCK DOWN. 


Blane. The gates had been closed at least halt an hour before the 
murder, and the sentry at them, as well as Sergeant Blane, was p( r 
fectly certain that nobody had -passed out of tliem. It was not 
much, but it was something to go upon. To have arrived at the 
possibility of a person leaving the citadel otlierwise than bv the 
gates IMr. Pollock thought was a considerable point. Still, turn it 
over as lie would, think about it as he might, there was no putting 
the bits of the puzzle together in the slightest degree. Where did 
the cartridges come from? What could have been the motive for 
the murder? Even tracing what had been the ordinary life of Mr 
Clayt'ord seemed infinitely more difficult than could have been sup- 
posed of a young man in his positic n. The habits of a 3 "oung officer 
in a garrison town would, as a rule, be easy to ascertain by an acute 
inquirer. Who were his intimates? Who were his friends, etc.? 
But in this case it would seem that, outside his regiment, the de- 
ceased gentleman had hardly any acquaintances, that is, as far as 
Mr. Pollock could as yet discover. In these boating excursions, to 
which apparently he was so much addicted, lie had no compauionsw 
According to the testimony of Coffin, the sailor in cliarge of liis 
boat, they were but rarely accompanied. They sailed about the 
Bound, sometimes did a bit of fijhing, and occasionally had to take 
to their oars when the wind left them in the lurch; but there was 
seldom anybody else in the boat. The more he thought of it the 
more Mr. Pollock wagged his brad over the case; hut. at the same 
time, the more his set resolute mouth and bent brows showed a dr- 
terminati:)n to get to the bottom of the mystery. 

“ It’s a mm ’un, it is,” said Mr. Pollock to himself, ” if 1 don’t 
get a something to go upon when they examine this poor fellow’s 
T>apers. ItTl come, no doubt. Somebody who is in it will make a 
blunder somewhere. There never was a murder yet that lliere wasn’t 
somebody, though perhaps quite unconsciously, an accessory to 
the crime. Now, in this case, somebody got those cartridges, and 
the somebody who sold them could identify llie person to whom he 
did sell them, even it he couldn’t name him; secondly, there is 
another somebody who could suggest a very plausible reason for a 
somebody wishing Mr. Clay ford out of the way. Total of the sum 
as it stands at present: Where were the cartridges bought and wlio 
bought them? Secondly, who had a special reason for ISIr. Cln}^- 
ford’s removal from Phmioulh? There is one further complication 
in the case, now 1 think of it, his removal from Plymouth was al- 
most a question of days. Two or three weeks at the outside tvill see 
the regiment embarked. No; it must be more tlian that if I’m cor- 


STRUCK DOWK. 


27 


reel in all my Iheory. There must be tierce personal animosity at 
lilt, bottom of this crime; and there’s doubtless somebody in the 
place who could susr^^est the man likely to cherish that feeling 
against Mr, Clayford; ay, and give the why of it, too. These 
XJapers, these papers,- 1 wonder whether they’ll let me look at Ihern? 
f\. mere scrap or note would probably put the clew that 1 am search- 
ing for in my hand.” 

Mr, Pollock had taken up his quarters at Chubb’s Hotel, an old- 
lashioned country inn, with a great connection in the commercial- 
traveler line, and, like any house patronized by those gentlemen, a 
right comfortable hostelry. It was a iDlace admirably suited to 
Mr. Pollock’s present business, insomuch as it was a good deal 
frequented by some of the leading business men ot Plymouth, who 
diopped in there for lunch and a bit of chat in the middle of the 
day. Consoqueutly, all the local gossip was to t'c heard in the 
coRee-room; and the inspector cherished the hope that sooner or 
later he might in this way get a very useful hint or tW'O. Some- 
thing might fall from the lips of the speakers to which they them' 
selves attached no significance, but which might turn out pregnant 
with meaning when followed up in connection with this crime. 
Mr. Pollock, in his usual afltable, genial manner, was already upon 
easy gossiping terms with many of the frequenters of the house; but 
there was one man who completely baffied him. A taciturn, some- 
what morose man wdio ate his lunch in silence, and with whom 
it was impossible to get into conversation, wdio answered briefly 
and almost gruffly wdien addressed. lie aioused the inspector’s 
curiosity, and he made inquiries of the waiter concerning him. 

“What,” the old gentleman replied, “that liinctiouary who 
always takes the corner table? He’s one of our most regular cus- 
tomers; he’s been here to lunch almost every day since I’ve known 
the place, and I’ve been in the liouse twelve j^ears. He’s a Mr, 
Crinkle, sir, and he takes that corner table so as people mayn’t 
come and talk tu him. He’s a gieat scholar, sir; if you nolicb, he 
always brings a book out of his pocket. There’s nobody in the jdace 
can say the}" know" him much more than to nod to.” 

“ And w"hat’s his business?” inquired Mr. Pollock. 

• “ He keeps a general store in Devonport, sir; he’s said to l>e a 
very warm man, sir. Keeps two or three assistants, and at the 
same time attends pretty closel}" to the business himself.” 

“ And he sells—” inquired Mr. Pollock, raising his eyebrows. 

“ Most everything,” replied the waiter, who hal all the garrulity 
of his class. “I’ve heard the gentlemen say they don’t believe 


28 


STRUCK DOWN. 


there’s anything you couldn’t buy at Crinkle’s, from a watch to a 
harpoon.” 

“ (Rose- fisted, eh?” 

“ 1^0 sir; Mr. Crinkle’s a careful man with his money, but he’s 
not close-fisted, he always does the right thing by me, and is always 
safe for a handsome Christmas-box as well, sir; he’s what the 
gentlemen call a miss — miss — miss something oi other.” 

“ Ah, 1 see, a misanthrope.” 

One must suppose it was from the sheer perversity of human 
nature, for it certainly was without the slightest relerence to the 
matter he had in hand, but from that hour it became part of t^le 
business of the inspector’s life to make Mr. Crinkle talk. He ad- 
diessed him in the airiest manner daily at lunch, and no rebuffs 
seemed to disturb Mr. Pollock’s imperturbable good-humor. But 
liow the inspector succeeded in this apparently idle pursuit we shall 
see later on. In the meantime, something very much more impor* 
lant called his attention. He received a note from Major Griffith, 
saying that Hr. Clayford, the murdered man’s elder brother, had ar- 
rived at Plymouth, and would have no objection to Inspector Pol- 
lock’s being present while he went over the deceased’s papers; fur- 
ther, that unless he saw reason to the contrary, he would give the 
inspector a general outline of each of them, and submit to liim any- 
thing that Inspector Pollock thought miglit tend to throw light oil 
the murder, as he considered it a duty to society that the perpetra- 
tor of such a crime should be brought to justice if possible. The 
note wound up by intimating that the inspector hid better present 
himself at Major Griffith’s quarters at ten o’clock the next morning. 


CHAPTER VI. 

LOVE LETTERS. 

Mr. Pollock duly made his appearance according to instructions 
at the major’s quarters, and was presented to a quiet self-possessed 
gentleman in deep mourning, whom the major introduced to him 
as Dr. Clayford. The doctor was a fair man, with keen, honest blue 
eyes, and the quiet, easy manner that most men who rise in the 
medical profession usually acquire. 

“Now, Mr. Pollock,” said the doctor, ‘‘with Major Griffith’s 
permission, 1 will get this painful business over as soon as possible. 
Captain Lockyer, who was one of the board on my poor brother's 
cffecls, and Jennings, his servant, will bo at his quarters to render 
us any assistance in their power. My time is valuable, and so, no 


STRUCK DOWK. 


29 


doubt, with the regimeDt preparing for embarkation, is yours, 
iViajor Griffith, therefore 1 will say gnod-bye tor tlie present, I shall 
see you again, of course, before you return to town, which 1 must 
do as soon as the funeral is over.” 

Mr. Pollock followed the doctor silently out of the room, and as 
they walked acioss to the dead man’s rooms, said: 

“ You will excuse me, 1 know. Dr. Olayford, but as soon as Jen- 
nings has shown you all you want, please dismiss him; remember^ 
1 ve nothing to say against him, but 1 expect to discoyei nothing to 
help me, unless it is amongst your poor brother’s papers. I neither 
know what sort of a man your late brother was, nor Jennings is, 
but every one knows that if the master is a careless man, and the 
seryant a curious one, the latter may know as much about his mas- 
ter’s papers as he does himself; and the servant that don’t gossip is 
a phenomenon.” 

”1 understand,” replied the doctor, “you don’t want Jennings 
to be present in the event of our making any discovery amongst 
poor Charlie’s papers.” 

“ That’s it, sir. 1 <lonT want anybody but you and Captain 
Lockyer to know that 1 attach importance to any scrap of paper we 
may happen to find. And if 1 might be allow^ed to make a sug- 
gestion, sir, it would be, that we shouldn’t trespass on Captain 
Lockyer ’s valuable time.” 

^ “ 1 understand,” replied Dr. CJayford, “ and 1 think in a quarter 
of an hour 1 shall be able to tell Captain Lockyer and Jennings we 
don’t wish to detain them any longer. They’ve only got to show 
us the keys and where things are, and the whole business 1 should 
think is not lively to take us very long. Poor Charlie was not likely 
to leave many papers behind him, I snould think.” 

Jennings and Captain Lockyer were both lounging outside the 
quarters as the doctor arrived. The captain shook hands with him, 
and at once proceeded to unlock the door of the quarters, outside 
which a sentry was pacing up and down. A sentry “over death 
and the dead.” Jennings speedily indicated which were the keys 
of the diaweis, trunks, etc., and as for L:)ckyer, although anxious 
^o do everything in his power to assist Dr. Clayford, lie was only 
too pleased to be quit of wiiat was to him a very meljincholy busi- 
ness, and as soon as he thoroughly understood that the doctor and 
his cDinpanion really did not require the assistance either of himself 
or Jennings, promptly vanished from the scene, taking that servitor 
with him. 

It is not worth while following the pair through tlielr investiga“ 


30 


STRUCK DOWN. 


tion of the dead man’s eftects. The only remarkable tiiin." about it' 
^vas the intuitive knowledge that ]\lr. Pollock seemed to possess of 
the keys for everything; but there was no point of interest until 
the}' came to the deceased’s dispatch-box, except some bibs, invita- 
tions to by- gone dinners, and old play-hills, they had so tar discov- 
ered nothing. But it was nr>t likely, as Mr. Pollock knew, that they 
•would come across anything useful to him in all this preliminary 
investigation. 

“ ISow, sir,” he said as he unlocked the dispatch-box and placed 
it before the doctor, ” it what i want is in the rooms, it’s there.” 

The contents did not take long to run through. 

” Receipted bills these. A very ill-kept diar 3 %” said the doctor. 

” Carried up to what date*/” interposed Mr. Pollock, sharply. 

” There does not seem to have been an entry for the last eight 
months.” 

” Might 1 hear the last entry?” inquired Mr. Pollock. 

‘‘ Yes,” replied the doctor dryl}^ 

” Dined at the Royal, went to the theater afterward, back again 
to the hotel, played pool till past one, lost Udrty-two shillings, and 
then home to bed.” 

” All! well sir, 1 don’t think it worth while rroing into that, more 
especially as it isn’t carried down to within eight months of the 
pr^eut time. What next. Dr. Clayford?” 

‘‘Hum! Well, here are a handtul of loose letters. 1 will just 
run through them; they seem principally letters descriptive of good 
days with the Ijounds, or good ilays with the gun or the rod, from 
ft ceitain Dick Cayley. Smartly written, which would account for 
their being kept, but 1 don’t think, Miv Pollock, they can possibly 
hear upon the question in hand. JS‘ow, lure are two packets of let- 
ters besides. One is a largish packet, and they are bound together 
by a green silk ribl)on; the oilier is very small, ajid consists of three 
or four, at the outside, tied up with a tress of dark hair. 1 will open 
the larger packet first. Love letters these, INIr. Pollock, with the 
lady’s name signed in full, and her address. I don’t pretend to have 
gone through them, but the hdest is dated very nearly two years 
ago. And I think we may put these on one side, at all events for 
the present. It looks to me like a by-gone flirtation.” 

” Yes, sir; those are the sort of letters 1 want to come across, but 
not of that date. What about the other?” 

Tile doctor sent the blade of his penknife ruthlessly through the 
silken braid. “Four letters,” be said. “Now, Mr. Pollock. 1 
think these are what you want,” continued the doctor, after rim- 


STRUCK DOWK. 


nin^^ Lis eye rapidly over them. “ These are sLort, passionate notes, 
contaiuiu.fij ne ither date nor signature; tut it so happens in one case 
that the envelope has been preserved. That envelope, which doubt- 
less incloses the last note of the four, bears the Plymouth postmark, 
with the date on the stamp. It must have been posted the day be- 
fore my poor biother met his untimely end. l oii had better read it.’" 

“ Thank you, sir,” replied Mr. Pollock, and he silently skimmed 
through the following few lines; 

“ Dearest Charlie, — Although we parted with great bitterness 
last week, and though I can scarcely forgive the wrong you have 
done me, yet 1 can not let ' ou sail for Africa without saying good- 
bye. It was ciuel to win my heart and tlien at the last say you 
feared you could never marry me. 1 could have waited, wept, and 
prayed for you wiule you were engaged in that cruel war. But you 
would not promise to make me your wife, and insulted me, by 
hinting at the diffeience in our station. My hot Spanish blood 
got the better of me, and 1 vowed L would never look upon your • 
face again. But, my darling, if my kiss was not on your lips and 
anything happened to 3 mu in that far-away campaign, 1 should 
never know a inoiiieni’s peace more. Meet me on the ramparts at 
the back of your quarters at nine or a little before. It is risky, but 
1 shall he closely veiled. Ever your own dearest, M.” 

Mr. Pollock read this letter over twice attentively. 

“"Now, Dr. Clayforcl," he said at lengtli, “1 am going to ask 
you to keep the knowledge of these four letters strictly to ourselves. 
You see, sir, we now really liave something to go upon. There can 
be no doubt that your poor brother was a-carrying on pretty strong 
with some young woman in this town; and, judging from that let- 
ter, she was a pretty hot-tempered one, too. Now, the night she 
appointed to meet him, was the night he came to his death: and 
what’s more, the appointment wms made very close to the place 
where he was muidend. It does not at all follow that she took his 
life, although that’s possible; still, my theory at last about this case 
is, that she directly, or indirectly, was the cause of his death. Now, 
ymn see, I start with this scrap of handwriling, and the initial ‘ M ’ 
to guide me, together with the knowledge that the young woman I 
w'aat to find is somewhere in this town. It may take some little 
time; but you bet, doctor, I’ll find that young Amman before many 
weeks are over. If you wouldn’t mind, sir, I should like to have 
these letters intrusted to my care; though I presume the other three 
Ihiovv no more light on the writer than the one I have read.” 


32 


STllUCK DOWJSr. 


“ 1^0,*' replied Dr. Ciiiyford; “ none whatever, they are simply 
slioit passionnte notes, bearing no date, and signed only ‘ M.’ They 
make no appointment, and practically tor your purpose, the last is 
tar and away the most important, as owing to the preservation of the 
envelope the date is preserved. We also know that it is a Plymouth 
letter.’* 

“ Quite so, sir; quite so; still I should like to have possession of 
them all the same; they tend to show that poor Mr. Clayfoid was 
engaged in a very serious love aflair, with a hot-tempered impas- 
sioned woman And by the Lord, sir, w'hen tlnii’s the case, hg 
would be a wondrous clever man wdio wmuld venture to predict 
what w’ould be the end of it. And now, Dr. Clayford, if you’ll 
just give your London address, 1 think 1 need trouble you no more. 
Can 1 be of any further use, sii, before 1 bid you gond-bye?” 

“!No, thanks,” said the doctor, also rising, ana locking the dis- 
patch-box; ” 1 think we have finished all there is to do here. With- 
out any undue feeling of vengeance, 1 certainly do trust 3^011 will 
discover how my poor brother came to his end, and that the assas- 
ihi will be duly brought to justice. You see, Mr. Pollock, it is a 
great point for his lamil.y. We most assuredly wish that not the 
slightest suspicion of the stain of suicide should attach to his 
memory.” 

” Don’t you believe it, sir; your poor brother never laid hands on 
himself. And 3^11 tnist to me, Inspector Pollock; 1 will produce 
the murderer before many weeks are over. Good-bye, sir,”— and 
liere the inspector stopped himself w^ith a severe cough— he was 
about to add, ” wishing yon a pleasant journey back to town;” but 
suddenly remembering the cause of Dr. Clayford ’s appearance in 
Plymouth, and the ceremony he was to attend that afternoon, it 
flashed across him as being slighlly inappropiiate. 

” Ah!” said Mr. Pollock; ‘‘ it’s a beautiful case, it’s opening out 
by degrees.’* He Idt like a man who dimly saw liis way to the dis. 
CO very of au intricate chess prol)lem. ” What with the cartridges 
and the young woman, it will be odd it 1 don’t get to the bottom of 
the m 3 "stery before long. That handwriting and the signature ‘ M.* 
ought to give me a pretty fair guess as to who is the lady before 1 
am many days older; bringing it home to her is another thing— that 
will probably take a great deal more time, and it’s very likely she 
\vas merely the occasion and not the cause of the murder.” 

Mr. Pollock walked back to his hotel with feelings of considera- 
ble relief. He bad no doubt nov but what a woman ^ 7 as at tbe 
bottom of the mystery. As to who she was, or where she was, he 


STRUCK. DOWK. 


33 


had not the faintest idea; but then tlie Inspector knew it was per-, 
fecily impossible that a young man in Mr. Clayford’s position could 
have carried on a strong flirlaiion with a girl in a town line P]ym- 
oulh, without more than one person having knowledge of the 
^ same. Before long he was sure to come across somebody who could 
tell him all about that; and then the w.hole story woula probably 
unravel itself iapidh% and he would most likely in his own mind be 
able to name the murderer, though wdiether he might be able to 
prove him as such was ot course a very different thing. Mr. Pollock 
was, by force of circumstances, so far prevented from falling into 
that prevalent error, so common among the investigators of crime — 
to wit, the suspecting a man first, and then seeking to piove that he 
is the culprit. It is like running a back-trail; and the clew that 
might have led to the conviction of the real offender is lost, while 
they are following the false scent. 


CHAPTEK Yll. 

MR. crinkle’s marine STORES. 

AViien Mr. Pollock regained his hotel, he came to the conclusion 
that the first thing to do was to lunch. Like Dugald Dalgetly, Mr. 
Pollock held that the detective on the war-path should never neglect 
an opportunity of taking in supplies. lie could never tell when 
necessity might require such vigilance on his part as almost to pre- 
clude the chance of eating or drinking. The coflee-room at Chubb’s 
was unusually deserted, but Mr. Crinkle was occupying bis usual 
corner. Instead of a book, he was perusing a paper, and, to judge 
from his countenance, seemed both interested and astonished at what 
he was reading. 

“ Fine day, sir,” remarked Mr. Pollock, cheerily, as he seated 
himselt at the adjacent table. 

“Yes, there’s nothing the matter with the dajq” rejoined Mr. 
Crinkle, sourly; ‘‘I’ve seen belter— bul, I’m bound to admit. I’ve 
seen worse.” 

‘‘ Get me a chop, waiter, and look sharp,” continued Mr. Pol- 
lock. “ Anything in to-day’s paper, sirV foi 1 haven’t bad time to 
look at it myself.” 

“ 1 rarely read a paper,” rejoined Mr, Crinkle sharply; “ and I’m 
not even reading to-day's at present.” 

“ Very good, sir,” replied Mr. Pollock, pleasantly, ” then perhaps 
you will tell me, what news there is in to morrovv’s?” 

2 


34 


STRUCK DOWJiT. 


A grim smile spread over JMr, Crinkle’s countenance, as he said 
“Hum! You are a joker, are you? Well, it’s something even to 
have spirits to make a fool of yourself in this world. 1 haven’t. 
No, 1 rarely look at a paper, and 1 have by chance picked up an old 
one in this cofiee-room. Papers are rubbish; I don’t care who’s in 
or who’s out— 1 don’t care a rush about home policy or foreign 
policy. The thing that has interested me in this paper, is the ac' 
count of a curious murder that seems to have been committed in the 
citadel. 1 live so much out of the world, and speak to so few peo- 
ple, that, queer as you may think it, Mr. , what the deuce did 

you say your name was? 1 suppose you have got a name?” con- 
tinued Mr. Crinkle irritably. 

“ Poliock. sir; Pollock,’’ chimed in the detective suavely, 

“ Well. Mr. Pollock, you may think it odd if you like, but this is 
the first I’ve heard of this murder, and a pretty considerable set of 
fools the officers in charge of the case seem to me to be so far.’’ 

“ 1 don’t quite undert^tand you, Mr. Crinkle; it seems to me that 
they’ve done all that was possible, as far as the thing has gone.” 

“ How did you know my name was Crinkle, sir?’’ 

“ Simply because 1 asked the waiter,’’ rejoined Mr. Pollock, who 
was always amazingly candid when he had no interest in bein'g the 
contrary. “ Might I ask what steps you would have taken as a pre- 
liminary v” 

“ Why, naturally the first thing vrould be to ascertain where those 
cartridges were bought, 1 don’t pretend to know any tiling about 
the investigation of crime, but it surely must be based upon the 
science of induction, the basis of all great discoveries. Now, as far 
as 1 have real of this murder, the one salient fact is, where did the 
cartridges come from? when you’ve ascertained that, y<ui will 
pretty well have ascertained where they went to; and 1 should think 
then the conundrum is about half solved.’’ 

“ You’re a clever man, Mr. Crinkle; a very clever man, sir. 
Would you have a glass of something at my expense while we just 
talk this over?” 

“ Well,’’ rejoined the other, “ a pint of bitter is my regul.ir thing 
at luncheon, but I’ll just break through the rules for once, and have 
sixpenn’orth of brandy cold w’ith you. Now,” he continued, “1 
don’t know exactly what you are, but I lake it you’re something 
connected with the papers, ain’t you?’’ 

“ That’s it, sir, that’s it. Two brandies cold, Wilbani. Now, 
what would you have done, Mr. Crinkle?’’ 


STRUCK DOWN". 35 

“ 1 sLoulcl have been round to every gunsmith in the town to start 
with.” 

“ That’s just what the police did, sir.” ^ 

” J^o doubt,” rejoined Mr. Crinkle, with a sneer; “and didn’t 
find out what the}" wanted to know. 1 should have done exactly 
the same as the police, only 1 shouldn’t have expected to find out 
■what 1 w"anted.” 

“ Then wliat was the use of doing it?” inquired Mr. Pollock, 
somewdiat flippantly, with intention. 

“ Because, when you are hunting for game, you should never 
leave a rood of ground unbeaten. There are dozens of places in 
Plymouth where a man could buy cartridges besides a regular gun- 
srnitn’s. Why, Mr. Pol — Pol— something — 1 forget the rest of it, 1 
«ell cartridges; 1 sell everything Fit you out, sir, with a kit tor the 
East Indies, or one for the North Pole. Could, I daresay, find you 
a ship at a pinch, and generally have fusupply of chain cable on 
hand.” 

“ You sell cartridges?” suddenly interposed Mr. Pollock, with in- 
terest. “ Still it can hardly be supposed that you reniember to 
whom you sell them.” 

“No; don’t usually sell them myself, but my young men have 
pretty tidy memories. We want it a bit in ni}" business. Every- 
thing that is oftered to us for sale is not always come by quite on 
the square. 1 tell you— and everybody else in Plymouth will tell 
yon the same — I’m a general dealer, I’il bii}" anything if the price 
suits, I’ll sell anything I’ve got if the price suits, but apart from the 
memories of my young men, there are the books. They don’t lie; 
mine are not kept tor purposes of fraud, and upon the one or tw"o 
occasions we have made a mistake, have been at the disposal of the 
police at once. 1 can’t say anything about these cartridges. 1 merely 
mean that they might have been bought at m\" place, just as they 
might have been bought at half-a-dozen like establishments in the 
place. Tliose caitridges, Mr. Poldoodle — beg pardon, no, that’s not 
quite 5 'our name, but forget what it is exactly —are at the bottom of 
this mystery. Now, don’t you make any mistaKe, they w^eren’t 
bought by an officer. Whoever the buyer was, he wasn’t that, and 
instead of going to a gunmaker, he’d be likely to go to just such a 

place as mine. There, Mr, , 1 really canjt recollect your name,” 

continued Crinkle, as he finished his brandy-and w^ater, “ it’s a 
long time since 1 have taken so much trouble to knock a little sense 
into an 3 "body’s head, but you’re a sharpish chap, and, w"hat’s more, 
jou know how to hold your tongue, wdien somebody wdio’s really 


36 


STllUCK DOWK. 


got intomiation to give is talking. Guod-duy, sir, and if you know 
any one connected with what are termed ‘ the intelligent guardians 
of our lives and property,’ you just tell ’em, if they 'svant to get to 
tlie^'ights of the citadel murder, they’d better begin with the car- 
tridges;” and so saying the old gentleman put on his hat, and took 
his departure, 

‘‘ He's a rum ’un, he is,” murmured ]\lr. Pollock, “ but hc’^ no 
fool. The chances are, that about those blessed cartridges lie’s right, 
and wherever they tN’ere bought it was not in a legular gunsniilh’s 
shop. Still that’s not the turning point of the secret. When 1 once- 
get at who the woman was— who penned that last letter— then 
I’ve got the key of the m 3 ^stery. I’d stake my twenty-years' cxpiuience 
in the deteclive arm of the force, that that woman was the cause of 
the whole tragedy. It might have been unknowingly, ver}' likel}’ 
undesignedly, and there’s just the possibility that her own hand 
leveled the pistol. Still, whenera the riddle is solved, the writer 

V of these lints that 1 carry in my breast-pocket, will be found at the 
bottom of it.” 

In the meantime Mr. Pollock came to the conclusion that the lirst 
thing to be done was to endeavor to discover where the cartridges 
had been purchased. With a view to this, he walked across to the 
head quarters of the Plymouth police. He was treated there with 
the greatest deference. In their eyes, he was the great J\Ir. Pollock, 
the celebrated London detective, unraveler of a score of criminal 
mysteries, and they were only too anxious to carry out his wishes ii> 
any respect, more especially as the citadel murder was a case tliat 
had completely baflled them. Tliey had come to that last hopeless 
state which characterizes the superficial investigators of crime gen- 
erally. It need scarcely be said that Mr. Pollock did not share 
such discoveries as he had made with his Plymouth compatriots. 

_ Upon learning what he wanted, the chief quickly procured him a 
list of several shops, otherwise than professional gunsmiths, in 
which it was possible cartridges might be sold, and told off an ofli- 
cer in plain clothes to go round with him. Mr. Pollock carried one 
of the three cartridges that had remained in the revolver in his pocket, 
but he said nothing of this to his companion. Two or three of the 
most likely shops, the Plymouth officer said, they had already testea 
uusuccessfully, but perhaps it might be as well to try agaiu. The 
two men spent the whole atlernoou in going into all sorts of queer 
establish) ments about the bottom end of Union Street and over in 
Hevonport. Difficult to say wiiat these shops did not keep, for the 
miscellaneous assortment of goods that a geneial dealer in a seaport 


STliUCK ])OWK. 


3r 


towD has upon his premises is something wonderful, more especially 
when, as in the case of man}^ of these men, they combine the pawn- 
broking business with their own. In more than one of them did 
they find cartridges for sale. They were invariably odd lots that 
had come into the dealers’ hands in conjuncfion wiin second-hand 
pistols, now perhaps disposed ol; but in no case did they discover 
cartridges of the pattern the}^ were seeking lor. Still it was quite 
clear that cartridges could be bought in these places, and as tl^e 
local officer sidd, “ I’m not sure that m3’ list is complete. W e ran 
It out in a hurry, and 1 dare say 1 have overlooked two or three of 
them.” 

“Possibly,” replied Mr. Pollock, who had already noticed the 
absence of Mr. Crinkle’s name from the little catalogue. “ How- 
ever, we’ve reckoned up all those on the list to-day, and an}^ more 
you can think of we’il visit to-morrow. We must get at where 
those cartiidges came from. It would be a blot upon our reputa- 
tion not to discover a little matter like that, though whether we 
shall be much further on our way to laying hands on the murderer 
wnen we do, I’ll own I’m not quite ibo certain.” 

“ Wh3% Mr. Pollock, it’s clear as mud,” replied the local officer. 
“ The man who bought those cartridges loaded and pistol and used 
if-” 

“ Well, 1 suppose he did; but, mind, we’ve got to prove all tliat,”^ 
rejoined the inspector rather absently. “ And now, old fellow, I’ll 
bid 3"ou good-day. I’ve a little bit of business of 1113^ own to attend 
to,” and with a jerky little nod to his companion Mr. Pollock 
turned on his tracks and once more betook himself to Devonport. 
He asked one or two questions in his progress, but eventualh" found 
his way to a large, rather ding3^ shop, over the front of which it 
was announced that Kathaniel Crinkle was a general dealer in 
marine stores, while three golden balls also advertised that lie ad- 
vanced mone3" upon substantial securit3^ Into this establishment 
Mr. Pollock plunged without hesitation, and at once demanded to 
see Mr. Crinkle himself. 

“ What is it?” asked the assistant. “ 1 dare say 1 can manage it. 
What do 30U want? Is it anything to sell, or do you wish for an. 
advance?” 

“ 1 want to see Mr. Crinkle.” replied Mr. Pollock sharply. “ You 
are a very nice young man, just about as nice as tlie3' make ’em 
probably, but 3mu won’t do. Just 3"Ou lake that bit of a note in la 
3mur master, and say I’m waiting, and look sharp; my time ia 
valuable.” 


38 


STRUCK DOWN. 


“One 'would think you about owned Devonport,” rejoined the 
asststant sulkily. “ 1 don’t suppose Mr. Crinkle will see you in 
spile of all your swag<rer. ’’ 

“ You’d heller ascerluin that fact, my young friend, as quickly 
as possible. You’ll not only find he will, hut yourself out of a 
situation, it you keep me huinhugging about the shop any longer.” 

Mr. Pollock’s aullioriiative manner utteily curDed the shopman. 
He slunk oft with the note in search of his principal, and speedily 
lAurned in a very crestfallen fashion. 

“ Mr. Crinkle will he very glad to see you, sir, in fils' own room;” 
and without another word the assistant marshaled Mr. Pollock to- 
wa/d the proprietor’s sanctum. 

“ What, it’s you, is it?” said the ohl gentlenvan, hooking keenly 
fit his visitor from the depths of the easy-chair in which he was en- 
sconced, “and so you’re Inspector Pollock, are you? We’ve all 
li.ard of you, o’ course. 1 thought you were a newspapir reporter 
when I met you at Chubb's. However, as Inspector Pollock, 1 
presume that Scotland \ard has handed this ca^e over tt) you, and 
it’s my duty to render you any assistance in my power. ISow, Mr. 
Pollock, what is it?” 

“ What is it, sir — what should it be? You know as well as i do 
— the cartridges, of course!” 

“Ha! ha!” said Mr. Crinkle, with a grim chuckle, “you’ve 
adopteil my opinion, liave you? vVell, j\Ir. Pollock, as 1 toM you, 
1 buy and sell pretty nearly everything, and undoubtedly stray lots 
of cartridges pass tbrougli my bands at times. Now the first thing 
is to know what the particular pattern of cartridge is that you’re 
seeking to identify.” 

“ There’s the cartridge,” replied Mr. Pollock; “ it’s the cartridge 
of a well-known maker, and there cari be no difficulty al)oul identi- 
fying it.” 

“ Thank you,” rejoined Mr. Crinkle. “ if you’ll excuse me for a 
few minutes, with a slight reference to the hooks, and some talk 
with my assistant 1 shall be able to tell you whether any such 
cartridges liave passed through our hands, and give you some clew 
as to where they went to.” 

The murine-store keeper was absent for a good ten minules, and 
on his return said, “Now, Mi\ Pollock, 1 can tell you all about 
such cartridges as we’ve had of that pattern. We purchased a 
brace of Deau and Adams’s revolvers from a caplain in the mer- 
chant service some six months back.. He had got into difficulties r»f 
some kind, 1 fancy, poor fellow— however, that has nothing to do 


STRUCK DOWK. 


with it. With the pistols we also took some four hundred car- 
tridges, about half of which we still have. 1 find that we have sold 
four Jots of those cartridges, in parcels of fifty at a time, to a man 
who has given no name, as why should he? He paid for the car- 
tridges over the counter, and tdbk them away with him.” 

“ A soldier?” said Mr. Pollock interrogatively. 

‘‘That 1 canTsay,” rejoined Mr. Ciinkle, “he mosC'‘^:lecidedly 
did not wear a uniform; on that point my young men are quite 
clear; but I happen to know that the officers’ servants, mess waiters, 
etc., are allowed to go about town in plain clothes.” 

“ You’re a shrewd man, a man ot considerable observation,” re- 
maiked the inspector, “ for I’ll be hung it I knew that till three or 
four days ago. JNowl’m going to be trank with you, sir; and what 
you have told me tells me pretty we\[ who bought those cartridges, 
though why he bought them, or wluit he did with them, i’ve yet to 
make out; but, mark me, this is not the man who committed the 
murder, though it is quite possible this may be the step to the dis. 
covery of the actual assassin, i thank you, sir, and good-morn- 
ing!” And Mr. Pollock quitted the shop in his usual abrupt 
stealthy naanner. 


CHAPTER Vin. 

ARREST OF JOHN FURNESS. 

“Now,” said Mr. Pollock to himself, as he stepped out ofT 
Nathaniel Crinkle’s store, “of course ISimmons bought i.hnse car- 
tridges; 1 don’t quite know what Simmons’s little game was, but 1 
certainly don’t think he bought those cartridges for the purpose of 
shooting Mr. Claytord. To begin upon,” continued the inspector, 
with a grim chuckle, “ a man can’t have much opinion ot himself 
as a shot if he thinks it necessary to lay in about two hundred 
cartridges to commit one murder. No; what Simmons wanted 
those cartridges for, or wdiat he did with them, I don’t know; but 
1 don’t think it will be very difficult to ascertain. In fact, if I’ni 
down viciously upon Simmons, 1 should think he wmuld probably 
cave in, and acknowledge the whole truth. Mr. Leaqer, no doubt, 
knows nothing about it. Ah, well! 1 quite see my way to clear- 
ing up the story of the cartridges; but these letters, how am 1 ^o get 
at the w'riter of them? Of course, there is somebody, no doubt 
several people, who wmuld recognize the handwriting at once; but 
the trouble is where to find them. However, it’s got to be done,. 


•40 


STRUO]v DOWN. 


and so, of course, it will be done. In the meantime, I’ve got 
Ihrough a good aMernoon’s work, so i think I’ll go back to Chubb’s 
and have a bit ot peck, and clear my head by going to the theater 
afterward.” 

Mr. Pollock canied out bis intention, and was in convulsions of 
laughter at the representation of ‘‘ The Illustrious Stranger.” played 
by the veteran who, from almost time out ot mind, had SNvayed the 
fortunes of the Plymouth stage. Suddenly one ot the attendants 
of the theater made his way into the dress-circle, where Mr. Pollock 
was enjoying the fun, and, touching him on the shoulder, said, ” 1 
beg your pardon, sir; there’s a gentleman wants to see you on im- 
portant business.” 

” And how the deuce do you know I’m the gentleman he w^ants 
to see?” inquired Mr. Pollock, sharply. ” Did he tell you my 
name?” 

“No; blithe came to the door and pointed you out, and he’s 
waltinir for jmu in the lobby now^” 

Nothing ever suiprised Mr. Pollock; but be got as near that sen- 
sation as possible when, upon going out into the lobby, he was met 
by one of the leading officers of the Plymouth police. 

“ The chief has sent me down to tell you that wp have arrested a 
man we believe to have committed the citadel murder, about an 
hour ago.” 

' Mr. Pollock indulged in a low whistle. 

“ I didn’t even know that you had the slightest clew.” 

“ Well, Mr. Pollock, we always think it best to keep these sort 
ot things to ourselves. We were anxious to give you every. assist- 
ance, but that didn’t prevent our working out the problem for our- 
selve?. Now, we happen to know of a man who was uniloubtedly 
in the_citadel at Ihe time the murder was committed, wlio certainly 
never left by the gale, and who declines to explain what look him 
there, or how he got out of the place. VV e’ve evidence to prove that 
ho w^as in the vicinity of the officers’ quarters just about the time 
the crime was committed.” 

“ The idiots!” observed Mr. Pollock, mentally. “ A premature 
arrest is an irretrievable blunder in a case of this kind; and wbal is 
the man?” lie asked. 

“ He’s a merchant captain, of the name ot John Furness. It 
seems lie’s been skulking about Pl^miouth for the last four or five 
days, and why be should not have gone to his usual haunt, the 
Golden Galleon, down at the Bar, is of itself suspicious.” 

“ The Golden Galleon!” exclaimed Pollock. “ I know the 


STRUCK j)0\VN. 


41 


house. By the Lord! T wonder it any of the people there are mixed 
up in this? That was Captain Furness's usual abode when on 
shore?” 

“ Just so,” returned the Plymouth officer. ” Until a day or twi> 
ago; he seems to have quite deserted his old haunts. Suspicious 
circumstance, that.” 

Mr. Pollock remained wrapped in thought for a minute or two, 
and then astounded the local officer by saying: “Thank you; and 
now 1 think ITl go back and see the conclusion of the performance; 
it’s a wonderful good farce, this; have you ever seen it?” 

But the officer was too disgusted at the Londoner’s frivolity to re- 
ply; he turned upon his heel, and, with a gruff good-night, left Mr. 
Pollock to undisturbed enjoyment of the drama. 

“ 1 declare 1 shouldn’t wonder,” said Mr. Pollock to himself, as 
he resumed his' seat, “ if these people have half blundered on the 
truth. There’s clearly a womnn in the case, and that handsome irirl 
at the Golden Galleon may possibly be the woman. At all events, 
lo-moiTow I’ll look that house up a bit.’' 

Mr. Pollock was a man of decision. Be was, of course, present 
at the police office the next morning, to hear Captain John Fur- 
ness, merchant seaman, arraigned on the charge of being, if not the 
murderer, at all events an accessory to the citadel tragedy.’ Mr. 
Pollock listened to the proceedings in silence, and when the ac- 
cused was finally committed to prison to stand his trial, the London 
detective w’alked out of the court in the most supreme nstonishment 
at country magislrfites’ justice 

“ Well, I’m d— d!” he muttered. “ These provincial beaks, they 
have pluck. They may make their case out, but at the present mo- 
ment I'm blessed if there is not a very pretty action for false impris- 
onment lying against the lot; they’ve no real evidence against this 
man whatever. He w’as loafing round the citadel on the night of 
the murder, and it seemed hadn’t been contorming to his usual hab- 
its for four or five days afterward. Why, if we hopped up every- 
body in London w'bo suddenly deviates from his accustomed grooves 
for a week or so, we should have the police-cells pretty full, and 
lUilhing to substantiate against tlieir tenants.” 

That ceremony over, Mr. Pollock at once made bis way down to 
the Golden Galleon. He found that hostelry in a state of great 
commotion. The arrest of such a well-known and popular fre- 
quenter as Captain Jack Furness on the charge of being implicated 
in the citadel murder, was a thing that convulsed the whole estab- 
lisLmeut. John Black, and the members of the skipper’s parlor,. 


42 


STRUCK DOWN. 


denounced the whole thing emphatically as a thundering lie, with 
much thum.ping of homy -handed, inahogan}’ -colored fists on the 
well-polished table, and poitentous lummers ot strong waters, with 
which to strengthen their opinions. 

“What!” tliey said unanimously, “Jack Furness accused of 
murder! why it ain’t in him. Kill a man in fair fight lie might, but 
to shoot a man down, without giving him a ‘ show’ for his life— no, 
no! that’s not Jack Furness,” and so saying, old John Black 
brought his hand dovvn heavily on that well-polished table, and the 
other inmates of the parlor stiongly indorsed his opinion. 

“ ^e ain’t that kind,” said a veteran old sea-dog. “ Vou’re right, 
John; he’s one ot those who looks his foe straight in the face, and 
has it out with him fair and square in the open, as a British sailor 
ehould. He’s not like one of these luriiners, who biood over a 
grudge for a week, and slip a knife into your liver at the end of it.” 

“ Don’t believe he ever did it,” jerked out Captain Korelon, sen- 
tentiously. That was about as long a speech as ever that distin- 
guished officer made. Like the famous Captain Bunsby, he was both 
sententious and oracular. Combining a jest on his lamc with the 
extreme brevity of his speech, his comrades w’ere w’ont to declare 
that he had spent his sea-going days in command of the “ ISIore 
Lightship,” the commandant of wLich, it is generally supposed, 
has but shght upponunity of conversation. 

But if the skijiper’s parlor w^as perturbed, it was nothing to the 
troubled expression that was glowing over Marietta’s face. From 
the day Dave Skirley had announced to her the murdci in the cita- 
del, the girl had borne the aspect of one with something on her 
mind; her face grew moie haggard, the circles beneath her e3"es 
grew d irkcr; and, though she faced her work resolutely as ever, it 
w^as apparent that her lieart w'as not in it. 8he greeted her father’s 
customers with a smile as of old, but it W’as very different from the 
bright smile of a week or two back. Now it was a forced, languid 
greeting, conjoined to what any close observer might have seen was 
a preoccupied mind. 

Shortly after witnessing the proceedings of the police court, Mr. 
Pollock strolled into the “ Golden Galleon,” and called tor a glass 
of bitter at the bar. 

“ Glorious weather, miss,” said the dete- live, as the Senora hand- 
ed hiai his tankard. A remark to which the girl assented with a 
polite inclination of her head. But nobody wdio had any knowledge 
of Mr. Pollock would have dreamed for one moment tlint, wiien he 
meant conversation, he was to he baffled by such trifling reticence as 


STIiUCK DOWK. 


43 


this. Not at all. W hen Mr. Pollock meant talking, he was raUier 
a (liflicult man to get away liom. Snubbing he was perfectly im- 
pervious to. It was no use rejecting his overtures of converBafion. 
He would rattle away apparently quite oblivious ot the fact that 
you had no desire to talk to him, and in nineteen cases out of 
twenty he carried his point, and broke down the reserve with which 
the stranger had hedged himself, Mr, Pollock had entered the 
Golden Galleon with two distinct objects in view. He meant to 
be upon fiiendly terras if possible with Miss Black, but he most de- 
cidedly wanted to be free of the skipper’s parlor; if anything was 
to be learned at the Golden Galleon concerning the citadel tragedy, 
Mr. Pollock bad somehow taken it into his head that it was from 
thence he would get his inspiration. 

But upon this occasion Mr. Pollock found he had no easy task. 
H's volubility made no impression on the Senora. She listened to 
him in a halt-absent way, and wdtli a wan smile upon her lips; but 
her replies were of the briefest, and she only spoke when absolutely 
necessary. 

When Mr. Pollock, with his easy affability, at last said, “ And 
now if you have a nice room that 1 can sit down in, 1 think I’ll do 
that again, my clear,” and pushed the tankard across to her, with a. 
view to its being refilled. Marietta simply called to the pot-boy, and 
with a curt ” Show this gentleman into the iront room, Tom,” dis- 
missed the subject. This did not^meet the inspector’s views at all. 
There was not much information to be acquired in the al sorptioa 
of a pint ot beer by himself. 

” It’s rather dull work drinking alone, miss; haven’t you a room 
where a man has a chance of chatting over his glass?” 

” There’s nothing to prevent your doing that where I have told 
Tom to show you, if you can find any one to chat with,” returned 
the girl coldly. 

“ It’ll he a chance shot,” thought Mr Pollock; ” but I’ll see, my 
lady, if 1 can’t wake you up a bit,” 

” Terrible tiling this murder at the citadel; it’s a comfort to hear 
that the police have laid their hands upon the man who did it.” 

Yes! he had woke her up now, aud no mistake. The girl’s eyes 
blazed, the blood surged in her cheeks, and her voice shook, as she 
asked impetuously, ‘‘ Who is it they accuse of the crime?” 

” A man, I’m sorry to say, miss, who it’s likely ^mu know. I’m 
told Captain Furness made this house his head-quarters when on 
shore.” 

‘‘They’ve arrested Jack Furness for this crime! Oh! my God I 


44 


STRUCK DOWN. 


niy God! Wliat shall 1 do?” and bursting into a paroxysm of 
tears, the irirl burned rapidly from the bar. 

” Hum!” said Mr. Poidoek to himself, as he followed his ale into 
the front parlor, ” a strong impression that young woman will 
turn out to be * M,’ and I’ll bet a trifle of odds tire clev^' to the 
citadel murder is to be found in the Golden Galleon.** 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE skipper’s PARLOR. 

AVhen Marietta gained her chamber, she sunk on her knees by 
the side of her bed, and, burying her face in the counteipaue, mur- 
mured: ‘‘Oh, my God! it is too terrible. 1 would have given my 
life to save Charlie Clayford; but, iu a moment of mad pission, Uve 
been the cause of his death. And, as if this were not past endur- 
ance as they stood, now comes this fresh complication, Jack Fur- 
ness accused of the murder! What took him to the citadel that 
night? 1 didn’t even know he was in England; and now he is de- 
nounced tor this murder. What mailness; what an inextricable 
tangle 1 seem to be involved in! Wliat am 1 to do? Who am 1 to 
trust? From whom shall 1 take counsel? 1 am lost! 1 can not let 
Jack Furness die a shameful death; aud, from all 1 hear, facts point 
strongly against him. I, who kuovv how stiaighttorward he is^ 
that Iris one mistake iu lile has been entertaining a passion for a girl 
incanahle of responding to it. Love! Yes, be did love me; better, 
1 believe, than tire poor fellow who is gone, and for whom 1 would 
willingly have died. It is sweet to think that he loveil me too. 
Honestly, 1 believe, but who shall say? When a man of his stntion 
pays his addresses to a girl of mine, the world is alwaj^s entitled to 
doubt the meaning of it; and that is what has happened, and that 
is what has brought all this unutterable woe. 1 see no way out of 
it, 1 can nut let Jack Furness die. Ah me!** she exclaimed, with 
a shiver, ” to stand in court with all the eyes of an angry crowd re. 
garding me would kill me; and yet, if 1 tell the truth, what other 
fate awaits me? It would be too shameful to let an innocent man 
sulTer for what, in my very heart, I believe him innocent of. He 
was there. What miserable mischance took him there, 1 don’t 
know; but, like the wlrole affair, it seems to have been one of a 
series of fatalities. Oh, Cliarlie, my darling, if you could birt 
know the unutterable wretchedness you have bequeathed to your 
poor Marietta, I’m sure the t(?ars would stand in your eyes.” 


STRUCK DOWN. 


45 


Mr. Pollock, ill the meantime, slowly_absorbiti" his ale, came to 
the conclusion that the Golden Galleon was a house that it behooved 
him to cultivate. 

“ Nice, hot-tempered young woman, ’’ he said to himselt. “ That 
clark-tyed girl in the bar could give a very useful hint or two about 
the cause ot Mr. Cmy ford’s death, when properly handled. A bit 
scarey, no doubt; one of the sort you jump information out of by 
surprising ’em. Quite a kind who, 1 should think, wouldn’t be 
above using a revolver herself, if her blood was up. A Spanish- 
looking woman, whose eyes blaze like fire. Never knows exactly 
where she’s going when her temper’s up. AYhether she did it, or 
whether she didn’t. I’d stake a good bit of money that she knows 
all about it. Now here’s this Captain Fulness. They’ve got him in 
custody, and 1 dare say have got a very pietty case against him as 
far as it goes; but I’ve considerable doubts as to wdieiher he’s the 
man. Still, if he was a lover of this girl’s, came back from sea, 
and learned that she had been carrying on with Mr. Clayford, it’s 
quite likely tbat his temper got the best of him, and, after a few 
angry words, he simply slew the man who had supplanted him in 
her affections. By Jove! old Crinkle’s right. The very first link 
in the chain is to get really hold of the secret of those cartridges: 
Who W'as the buyer; and what were they bought for? Simmons, 
no doubt, was the buyer; but, the why of it, that’s the question.” 

The more Mr. Pollock thought over this thing, the more he felt 
convinced that he must penetrate the sanctuary of the skipper’s par- 
lor. It was there that he would discover the details of the life of 
Captain John Furness, w^ould hear ot his characteristics, and what 
Character he bore, etc. They would know in there whether he was 
a suitor of Miss Black’s, whether a favored one or no, whether it 
was an affair that met her father’s approval, and what prospect of 
success he was considered to have had. And surely somebody in the 
house must know at ali events whether any acquaintance had existed 
between Miss Black and the man who bad come to such au un. 
timely end. As no hints of any description seemed to be responded 
to, Mr. Pollock, after due consideration, came to the conclusion tbat 
there was nothing for it but to take the case into his own liaods. 
Mr. Pollock was thoroughly accusUmed to this species of audacity: 
it was a necessity of bis peculiar business. The experienced detect- 
ive ofneer ignores rebuffs. If it suits his purpose to know you, he 
will do it. Mr. Pollock bad come to the conclusion that it was es- 
sential to the inquiry he was engaged on, to know the ” skipper’s 
parlor.” And, as no one appeared willing to introduce him, he de- 


46 


STRUCK DOWN-. 


termined to introduce himself. A few insidious inquiries speedily" 
acquainted him with the locality, and with no more ado, Mr. Pol- 
lock walked boldly^ in and hunj; up his hat on the nearest peg. 

There was a solemn stir on the part of the three denizens of that 
sanctum. Dave Skirley was smoking and ruminating in one arm- 
chair; Captain Noreton was absorbing the contents of a mahogany- 
colored tumbler, and those of the local paper, in another; the tliird 
was laboriously constructing a letter, which apparently necessitated 
much biting of the top of the pen, and dipping in the inkstand. 
Three pairs of eyes glarea at Mr. Pollock upon his entrance, with 
that unmistakable expression of “ What the devil do you want 
here?” which is familiay to all of us. 

” Beg pardon, sir,” said Captain Noreton, after Mr. Pollock had 
seated himself in an easy-chair and lit his cigar, ” p’r’aps you ain’t 
aware that (his is a private room.” 

Right you are, old man, and I’m a private gentleman in it. 
Now what will you have? What’s your particular variety? The 
wind’s in the south. Everything looks rosy, and * the goose hangs 
high,’ as they say on the other side of the water. That’s rather 
top quality Virginia 3^ou’re smoking, old fellow,” continued Mr. 
Pollock, turning to Skirley. ‘‘What a day it is! Trade’s pretty 
brisk, business re d good. Hope, gentlemen, you all find it so.” 

” 1 said, sir,” said Captain Noreton, ‘‘ that this is a private 
room. ’ 

‘‘ Of course you did, you dear old man; and didn’t 1 tell you I 
was a private gentleman? Now, what will you take? I’ve just 
been damping my stomach with a big dose of Ditter ale; and now 
1 must have a corrective. Now, sir, as a Christian and a sailor, 1 
ask y( u, do yon consider the rum here reliable?” 

Captain Noreton was adamant as possible concerning the integ- 
rity of the ‘‘skipper’s parlor.” But a genial stranger who sul^ 
gested gratuitous rum, was surely a man to be kindly regarded. He 
thawed slightly in his manner as he replied: ‘‘ That liquor was ob- 
tainable of exceptional purity at the Golden Galleon; and that 
though the gentleman, had made the mistake of intruding into a 
private room, still, for once in a way, they weie glad to see him.” 

‘‘ Once in a way!” chuckled Mr. Pollock, to himself, as he laiig 
tor glasses round. ” Why, jmu dear old man, il 5^011 only knew it» 
you won’t get shut of me out of this parlor for the next month* 
Very cuiious this citadel murder,” continued Mr. Pollock affably. 
“ Bless my soul, a big murder always Interests me more than any 
three volume novel that ever was written. Now this really is a 


STRUCK DOWN*. 


47 


TOOst interesting case. Who did in And why did he do it? Pos- 
sibly, some ot 3 "ou gentlemen knew Mr. Clayford. He was always 
boating, I’m told, and kept a yacht ot some sort down about here.’* 

“ I'aclit !” rejoined Captain Korcton contemptuously. “ He kept a 
sort of halt-decked boat, if you called that a yacht! No, we didn't 
see much ot him, he was a bit uppish; he didn’t think the likes ot 
us good enough for him. Except by sight, we none of us knew 
much about him; but old Bill CofBn always vowed he was a sailor, 
and old Bill’s a judge of those matters — did you say, sir, would 1 
do it again? Thank you, 1 don’t care if 1 do.” 

Mr. Pollock had not made the Dlightest overture to the calling tor 
more liquor, but Captain Noreton, like Mr. William Coffin, Mari- 
ner, was possessed of that grand natural thirst the which there is no 
assuaging. 

” Have you heard the news, gentlemen?” continued Mr. Pollock; 
“are you aware that Captain Furness— a man well known to most 
of you — has been arrested as the perpetrator ot this citadel murder?” 

“ What, Jack Furness!” exclaimed Captain Noreton. 

Dave Skirley took his pipe slowly out ot his mouth, and then 
«aid quietly: ” Jack Furness! why, the man has only just got back 
to Plymouth. How do the police know that he was even in the cita- 
del that evening?” 

“ Oh! pretty much as you know it, 1 suppose,” replied Mr. Pol- 
lock, as he lit a fresh cheroot. “ 1 don’t know anything about it, 
but there’s piobably a score of people who know that Captain Fur- 
ness was in the citadel that evening. I need scarcely say that your 
being in a place like that when murder is committed don’t exactly 
convict you ot being the murderer. The police must surely have 
more than that against him; at all events, they have gone the length 
of committing him. These coiint}^ magistrates are alwa 3 's prepared 
to go a cracker in that way; they know very little law, and still 
less about evidence; and nothing but a shrewd clerk prevents their 
making periodical tools ot themselves.” 

“Do you suppose, sir. Jack Furness committed this crime?” 
asked Captain Noretou, solemnly. 

“ 1 don’t pretend to know anything about it,” rejoined Mr. Pol- 
lock, pulling hard at his cheroot; “ all 1 do know is that there seems 
to be the very sketchiest evidence against him; so niucli so, that 1 
almost w^onder at the magistrates granting a committal.” 

“ It’s a rum *un, it is,” said Dave Skirley, as he sent a volume ot 
smoke up the chimney; “ the idea of Jack Furness being arrested 


STRUCK DOWN. 


48 • 

for murder. Odd, loo, he should be in Ihe ciUidel that night, tha 
he should be back and none of us know it.” 

” Ah you knew him well, gentlemen?” interposed ]\Ir. Pollock. 

” Knew him well!” rejoined old Koreton, almost irritably; “of 
couise we knew him well— wli.y, there wasn’t such a popular young 
hin about the Golden Galleon as he was. He have anything to do 
with this murder! Well! if they think that, there’s not such 'a 
doub’e distilled set of tools about as the police ot this city. Yes, 
shipmet, it’s a curious murder, no doubt. It’s a curious thing Jack 
Furness being in the citadel that evening; but lor’ bless their stu- 
pidity, to suppose he was mixed up in it is — ” and here Captain >1016- 
ton was so utterly lost for a comparison that he wound up with 
the rather weak conclusion ot, “ damme, impossible!” 

“Well, it does seem odd!” said Mr. Pollock; “ 1 suppose they 
have something to go upon, but what cause a man who’s been 
awa)^ on a six or eight months’ voyage could have for killing another, 
whom, as far as rumor goes, he never even spoke to, 1 can't imag- 
ine.” 

“Can’t you?” rejoined Dave Skirley, grimly: “strikes me you 
ain’t got much imagination ’bout you, my man. Buppose yon cauie 
home atter a long absence, and found a chap had stole what j’au 
prized more than anything in the world, don’t you think you’d feel 
a bit wolfish, and anxious to have it out w ith him?” 

“But,’' replied Mr. Pollock, with a blank innocence that did 
him infinite credit, “ this w^asn't a case of robbery; there wasn’t a 
ring, his watch, or even the money lying loose upon the mantel-piece 
taken from the murdered man’s rooms.” 

“ Bah!” rejoined llie other, contemptuously, “ as if it is not pos- 
sible to steal from a man what he values higher, ay, far higher than 
jewels or mtiuey. Who knows what lire dead man has stolen from 
Jack P'urness? We shall know, perhaps, when he is tried, ami, it 
ma}" be, admit there that if wrong to take the Jaw into his own 
hands, he had some justification for his deed.” 

“ T’here’s a good deal in what you say, sir,” rejoined Mr. Pol- 
lock, quietly, “ 1 don’t pretend to know anything about it. The 
police are, of course, in possession of much iuller informal ion than 
w^e possess to justify this arrest. It is odd. A curious case; and 
as you astutely suggest, sir, there is something in the background 
to account for Captain Furness’s proceedings. His mere appear, 
ance even in the citadel that evening is unaccpuntahle.” 

“ 1 tell you he didn’t do it,” chimed in Captain Koieton, biiug- 
ing his fist heavily down on the table in a manner that made the 


STRUCIv DOWK. 4y 

very spoons and glasses dance; we all know Jack Furness, and 
we know he didn’t do it.” 

“Right you are, sir, tor a doubloon,” said Mr. Pollock, cheei- 
fully, “ the police say he did, and nobody else seems to think so; 
but you know, gentlemen, the police are bound to say somebody did 
it After a short time they can’t go on saying they don’t know. 
You may know, or you may not know, but there’s a good many 
professions in which it never does to acknowledge vour ignorance. 
Now, shipmets, you’ve been in tight places, no doubt, in the course 
of your experience, but you know very well it never did to tell the 
crew that you didn’t know where the devil you were.” 

“ Been much at sea, sir?” inquired Captain Noreton. ” One can 
see with hall an eye that you’re not in the profession; but, p’raps,, 
you’ve been about a bit.” 

“ You don’t happen to have anything to do with the police, do 
you?” inouired Mr. Skirley, in a low tone. 

“ I’ve been at sea above a bit, gentlemen,” replied Mr. Pollock, 
“and I’ve nothing to do whatever with the Plymouth police.” 
And as he spoke the inspector rose, and putting on his hat, nodded 
an affable farewell to the pair. 

A man may say that he’s been to sea above a bit who has crossed 
the channel twice, and been about thrice to the Noie. Mr. Pollock 
also certainly did not belong lo the Plymouth police. The answer 
was jesuilical, but Mr. Pollock thought it high time to stop further 
inquiry into his own peculiar pursuits. 


CHAPTER X. 

CAPTAIN NORETON ON YARNS. 

The appearance of Captain John Furness before the magistrates,, 
on a charge of being mixed up in the famous citadel murder, ex- 
cited no little curiosity in Plymouth. The dashing, free-handed 
young sailor was well known in the town; much respected for his 
seamanlike qualities, which had given him command of a fine ship 
at a very early age, and also much liked for himself. Men and 
women, and especially the latter, were wont to wax rather enthusi- 
astic when speaking of “ Jack Furness.” lie had both good looks, 
and that frank, deferential manner which ahvays enlists the sym- 
pathies of the softer sex. Jack Furness couldn’t have sa^d a harsh 
word to a woman to save his life,, and the idea that he should be 
deemed guilty of having anything to do with Ihe death of Mr, 


50 


STRUCK DOWN. 


Clay ford seemed, to those who knew liim, incredible: and there 
was much growliiif): about the stupidity of the local police in conse- 
quence. Still, tliere were cooler heads who argued, improbable 
that it should be so, if you like, but let us hear what they have to 
say. They have hardly arrested this man without some grounds. 

Arrest him!” growled old Captain Noreton, who had made his 
way into the body of the court; ‘‘ ihey WTre bound to take up soine- 
hody, just to appear busy-like — might have been you; might have 
been me. Lord! what do they know about it? Enough for them, 
1 s’pose, the man’s in Plymo\ilh.” 

Captain Noreton had a very poor opinion of the ])olice. T'he 
veteran skipper was wont to be quarrelsome in his cups; and as, 
though rigidly abstemious when afloat, he was usuall}’ in his cups 
when ashore, it Lad led him in his younger days into considerable 
dillerences with the guardians of the public peace. 

Tlie gentleman who represented the Crowm opened his case very 
briefly, lie said it was only his intentian at present to offer suffi- 
cient evidence to justif}^ a remand; that Captain Furness had been 
fn riymoiith for some da 3 ’s, and apparently keeping his presence 
concealed from all his friends and acquaintances; that his proceed- 
ings had been quite contrary to his usual habits; and that he should 
produce evidence to show that the piisouer was not onl^^ seen in the 
citadel, but in the vicinity of the officers’ quarters. That another 
Angular circumstance w^as that, however he left the place, it was 
not by the gate, but by some means of his own. lie should prove 
that it was possible to descend from the ramparts, and thus get out- 
side after the gates were closed; but he said, laying maiked empha- 
sis on the remark, “ A man must have some object in thus evading 
public notice.” Further, that the prisoner, wdiile admitting that he 
had been in the citadel on the day and at the time mentioned, posi- 
tively declined to give the slightest explanation of wh}^ he was 
there, or how, or at what time he left. 

]\li. Faker then proceeded to zaW the sentry wdio had been on the 
ramparts in the rear of IMr. Clajdord’s quarters at the time the mur- 
der was committed. The man, who had heard the two shots, who 
swore tliat he had seen the prisoner lounging near his post some 
half hour before, bad noticed him particularly, for he had been 
tliere some time. Two cd the officers’ servants deposed to seeing 
l.im in front of the quarters; whilst the non-commissioned officers 
-und sentry on the gate swore positively that they had never seen him 
puss out. The sentry on duty there perfectly recollected his passing 
in a few minutes after six; but neither he nor his successors ever 


STRUCK DOWK. 


51 


saw him again. Captain Furness, it was also demonstrated, was 
further a somewliat notable character. He was a tall, good-looking 
fellow, and, unlike merchant skippers generally, atiecled a certain 
amount of nautical dandyism in his attire. Folks would not have 
been much surprised, for instance, to hear that he was the owner of 
a smart yacht. A man this, likely to catch the eye and be easily 
recalled to the memory; and the witnesses were all very positive 
with regard to his identity. Against this the gentleman retained in 
Captain Furness's interests pointed out that the lamparts of.the 
citadel wpre a very favorite lounge for the Plymouth public; that a 
suspicious character seen loilenug about the vicinity immediately 
before the great crime had been committed naturally incurred a taint 
of suspicion, but with a man whose antecedents were stainless the 
case was different; that theie was not a shred of evidence against 
his client; and he appealed to the magistrates to discharge him at 
once. As to the sentry not having seen Captain Furness pass out of 
the gate — well! sentries were not infallible. They sometimes did 
not see everything that went on in the neighborhood of their posts, 
and, finally, that a gentleman in his client’s position might very 
reasonably feel so indignant at such an unfounded accusation being 
brought against him as td decline any explanation of his presenco 
or his conduct on the occasion, a more unheard of infringement 
of the libeity of the subject had never, perhaps, been committed, 
and if Captain Furness was guided by him, whoever authorized Ida 
arrest would pay pretty dearly tor his whistle. 

The gentleman conducting the case for the crown bad naturally a 
few words to say in answer to this. While quite admitting tlnit 
proof was far from conclusive against the accused, he urged there 
was quite sufficient suspicion attaching to him to warrant a remand. 
He said that time had not as yet admitted of the full collection of 
evidence, but that daily more circumstances were being elucidateci 
in the unraveling of this most mysterious murder. That it would 
be premature on his part, or on the part of the police, to produce 
their case in full till they had pieced their story more thoroughly 
together. “ But, gentlemen, this appears to me to be a most flagrant 
case of taking the life of an upright, honorable man. Such a crime 
can not be slurred or passed over, and if suspicion piles itself up 
against any one, I feel sure that you will feel it your duty to detain 
him until such suspicion is dissipated. Captain Furness could dis- 
pel this cloud in one moment, if he chose to account for bis presence 
in the citadel, or how he left it, on that eventful evening. Tie de- 
liberately declines' to explain all this, and therefore 1 feel justified in 


-52 


STRUCK DOWK. 


askina: tor a remand at your bands, till further inqiiir}^ is made into 
this Ua<:e iy. No teelin.i^ but one of regret can possibly he expressed 
by me, or by any one who knows Captain Furness, that he should 
be placed in this painful position; still, there is no denying, it is 
due partially to his own obstinacy, and that nothing can now 
thoroughly exonerate him from participation in the crime but his 
lacing the investigation that 1 request.” 

As the shrewd solicitor who had been retained for the crown sat 
down, every one in court felt that Captain Furness was certain to 
be remanded on the charge of willfully slaying Mr. Clay lord, of the 
— th regiment, in the citadel on that bright duly evening. It was a 
certainty; country justice is usually very purblind, but even it iin- 
dei stands, when the possible culprit is in the trap, it is safer to keep 
liim in his cage a lew da3’s longer, than to prematurely open the 
door; and, as was expected. Captain Furness was remanded for 
that day week. 

” He ain't done it any more than 1 have!” exclaimed Captain 
Noi’elou, dogmatically, as he bustled his way out of the court. 

” Right you are,” rejoined Mr. Pollock, cheerily; ‘‘ but don’t you 
get edgy, old man. Rless you, there’s a many things turns up in a 
week. Why, there’s many a man on the Stock Exchange, who 
began on a Monday and found either the workhouse or a mansion 
in Bel grave Square ready for him on the Monday following. Dear 
me! it’s a queer world: it’s possible to go to church on a Sunday in 
a respectable way with the wife and kids, and to find yourself in 
Millbank for having cut their blessed little throats that day week! 
You can’t tell, sir; human nature is up to such games that you 
never know where. to have it. Bless me! look at ’em all. There’s 
Doctor Dodd, in years gone by a fashionable clergyman, as Pm told, 
who couldn't refrain from writing other people’s names. There 
was Mr. Faimtleroy, the banker, one of the biggest swells of fash- 
ionable society, he had the same weakness; and they both of ’em, 
to the astonishment of the world, died in their shoes in front of 
Newgate. Games, sir; human nature is always up to games. 
Wasn’t there a respectable school-master who did away with the 
woman to whom lie had been married thirty years and upward, and 
packed her up in a box for undefined purposes of exportation? He 
■was voted mad, that one; but, bless j^ou! I'm not quite certain 
about it. Men and v/omen, as far as 1 reckon ’em up, have always 
got a bit of the monkey and a bit of the tiger about ’em, which it only 
wants circumstances to develop. You come along with me, cap’n, 
nud we’ll just go back to the Golden Galleon, and rinse our 


STHUCK DOWN*. 


53 


mouths out No, no, sir, as I said before, human iiatui’ is rather 
difficult to count upon; but I don’t believe tliat Captain Furness 
had anything more to do with that murder than you or 1 had,” 

” Right you are, mate, and we’ll just stroll down to the Barbi- 
oan, and have a real nor’-easter on the strength ot it. Don’t you be 
shy, my lad; we don’t welcome everybody in the skipper’s parlor; 
but when Captain Noreton takes a chap up— well! it’s his own fault 
it he can’t get along there.” 

” Very good of you, indeed, I’m sure, to say so,” replied Mr. 
Pollock; “I’m quite a stranger^ with hardly any acquaintance in 
the place, and the privilege of dropping into yaur room and enjoy- 
ing the society of a lot ot naval gentlemen, with all your wonderful 
experiences, is a great treat to a Londoner like myself.” 

” Londoner! are you now? Wliy^ bless me, there’s a deal ot life 
to be seen about Gravesend, the docks^-and in the Pool. Wh}^ a 
man o’ your advantages ought to have'a carpet-bag full of yarns!” 

‘‘ That’s what is so hard about it; my tastes are all nautical, and 
fate has compelled me to do the conniierciul-lraveler business.” 

” What! you deal in laces and ribbons and such like frippery? 
poor beggar!” and Captain Noreton looked at his companion with 
undisguised pity. ” liuml you don’t look quite that sort of chap, 
either.” 

“ Well, no, captain— my soul’s not in it, you see, I’d always a 
hankering after tha stormy ocean, the Spanish Main, pirates, and 
all that sort of thing, and it’s a treat to me to associate with gentle- 
men who’ve seen it all.” 

Captain Noreton stopped short in the street and looked Mi% Pol- 
lock all ever. ‘‘Well!” he said, “I’m dashed; pirates! why 1 
never heard of such gentry being about, except maybe in the Chinese 
waters, since I was first rope’s-ended. You’ve been a reading some 
ot them nautical romances. Why, bless your innocence! the Chan- 
nel nowadays is as well lit as George Street, and as for the ocean, 
why it’s as well p’ I iced as this city.” . . 

“ Never mind, captain,” rejoined Mr. Pqllobk, laughing merrily, 
“ 1 dare say some ot your comrades will* be ready to administer to 
my appetite when they discover its direction; you seafaring gentry 
being able to spin a yarn; and, bless you! what does it matter if it’s 
true or nof^ A good story is a good story, and who cares whether 
it really happened?” 

“ I ain’t one of that sort myself,” said Captain Noreton, solemn- 
ly, “ and 1 don’t hold much with talKing for ihe sake of talking, 
and when 1 does tell a tale 1 generally state hard facts, either from 


54 


STRUCK DOWN-. 


my owa personal observations or from tliat of a friend whom 1 can 
rely on; but, nevermind, 1 like 5 ' 0 ii, and yon wiil suit us. And 
don’t be afraid you will be disappointed,” concluded Captain 
Koreton, as tl^ crossed the threshold of the Golden Galleon, 
“ There’s some on ’em in there,” and he jerked his thumb in the 
direction of the skipper’s parlor, ” who can pay it out tremenjoiis.'" 


CHAPTER XL • 

MR. POLLOCK PAYS HIS BILL. 

The Senora gazed with no little astonishment as Mr. Pollock fol- 
lowed his new friend t^,||^.^the skipper’s parlor. She had been, 
it may be rememberedi^^^n^HB^ wdien he had first violated that Banc- 
tum, and she was muah 'sui'JEfeed to see him appear to be hand and 
glove with grim old Captain Xbreton. What had br<>u'';ht this mys- 
terious stranger to the Goldm Galleon? Nobody accust'>nied to 
the ways of sadors wmuld ever suppi-se him to be one of that call- 
ing. A genuine salt has ways of his own and a smack <»f the sea 
that are unmistakable. The Senora was far too good a judge of* 
the craft to make any mistake of that nature. Mr. Pollock had 
guessed rightly that this murder v\^as the source of great pain and 
anguish 'to lier. What he wished to airive at was, why it w^as so? 
Although ill the first moment he had thought the ariest of Jack 
Furness an egregious mistake, he wras beginning to change his opin- 
ion. 

” 1 don't suppose,” he thought, ” that they have got the right 
man; but it somenow strikes me, that it’ll bustle up things all 
round. It’s like throwing a big stone into a pool; it don’t catch 
fish, but it makes ’em move, and that’s one step toward getting the 
book in their nioii\b. big criminals,” continued Mr. Pollock, 

philosophically,'‘y^|r siAK.'^iiug like your big fish, wont to be some- 
what sullen and their wa 5 ^s. Yes, the arrest of Captain 

Furness will stir ufeTlRijjt'l^'irF; if he’s not the right man, the real 
criminal will no doubt do'something to commit himself. They all 
do. Dear me, just think of that famous ease in which the criminal, 
something like two 3 "ears after the murder, exhumed his victim, 
packed up her head and part of her remains, and hft the parcel in 
charge of his clerk. I suppose it’s Providence,’' continued Mr. 
Pollock, meditatively; ” but they most ot them either confide their 
secret to somebody without the slightest faculty for holding their 


STJi^ k BOWN^. 55 

■~TC\ 

tongue, or else transmit something damnatory by rail which leads 
to their conviction/’ 

Mr. Pollock very soon succeeded in making himself tree ot the 
Golden Galleon, and what was more, turther established his 
freedom of the skipper’s parlor. One of the first things noticeable 
about Mr. Pollock was his extensive liberalit}' about ordering re 
fieshments and his peculiar forgetfulness about settling for them 
afterward. It was not that he seemed tp lack money; on the con- 
trary, wnen appealed to, his pockets seemed invariably well lined; 
but his anxiety, as Hans Breilman terms it, “ to put it on the slate,’' 
was curiously persistent. Mr. Pollock had his reasons, he was not 
the man to do anything without a definite motive. If he joined 
gayly in the festivities ot the skippei’s parlor it was because he 
wanted to mingle in their talk. It he endeavor’d to run up a score 
at the bar it was because be wnts excessively anxious to obtain a 
glimpse of the benora’s handwriting. 

But the Golden Galleon after the first, somewhat to Mr. Pol- 
lock’s disnray, proved a house of the most confiding disposition; if 
the skipper’s parlor passed the new-comer as a fit associate, then in 
the eyes of John Black he was a man w’hosc W’ord was good for all 
he ordered. 

The Golden Galleon had little experience of bad debts. The 
landlord was a warm man, and if one ot his customers did go to 
sea leaving a score unsettled, fretted little about ir, and upon the 
few occasions the skipper’s parlor had to sorrow’ over the loss of a 
messmate, John Black never tioubled himself about what the ac- 
count against him might be in the ledger, but was as honestly sorry 
as any of the others, and in most cases the debt was Irquidated by 
the dead man’s friends or relatives. How’ever, Mr. Pollock w^as 
not the man to be heat long on such a simple question as this, and 
therefore no sooner had he succeeded in contracting a small debt at 
the Golden Galleon than he politely inquired for his account. 
As he anticipated, it was made out for him by the Senora, and it 
was with the greatest possible interest that he tompared the hand- 
writing with those of the letters, that he alwa3"s carried in his breast- 
pocket, in his room at Chubb’s hotel that evening. Yes, it scarcely 
admitted of a doubt. Any expert in England would say that the 
writer of the aceount was the writer of those letters. Quite evident 
now to Mr. Polluck, that the Senora had been the sweetheart of the 
murdered man; equally clear to him from what he had picked up 
in the skipper’s parlor that this was a fact perfectly unknown to 
the fre^u inters of the Golden Galleon and the denizens ot Ply- 


56 


STRUCK Ts 

JT’ 

juoutli Bur. Fill Ibei, the detect satisfied liiraselt that Cap 
tail! Furness had been a pretender To the Senora’s band, and wbat 
was more, in the opinion ot the famous “ Tobacco Parliament/’ of 
which be bad lately been made a member, stood about first in her 
good graces. 

“ By-standers see most of the game!” muttered Mr, Pollock, 
snappishly. “ Kubbish! By-standers very often overlook what’s 
going on under their very npses. Ther ’s an odd unc here and there 
who is looking ov^er the cards, and, having the 1 acuity of observa- 
tion, may perhaps make a good gueis at who will score the trick. 
But, bless me! the by standers who can see into motives and guess 
reasons are not verv plenthul; wouldn’t be so much call for our 
services if they were. No! tlie case is opening out very prettily. 
Miss Black’s favored lover is found murdered in his room in the 
citadel. Miss Black’s supposed favored lover returns from a long 
voyage some four or five days before this mischance, and happens 
to have been present, upon mysterious business, in the citadel at the 
time of the occurrence— leaves nobody knows how. Might have 
had a balloon of his own, for all one could say. !No, slight as the 
evidence is against him, it certainly looks fishy for Captain Fur- 
ness. And yet— dash it all— 1 don’t believe he’s the man I Stjll, it 
is quite possible that a man coming home as Captain Furness did, 
would find somebody to tell him on his arrival that his sweetheart 
was unfaithful, and men of that class are apt to be a hit impulsive. 
Yes, I suppose there’s a bit ot truth in the old saying, ‘A sailor is 
always ready to take a glass, or fight for a lass.’ ” 

When Mr. Pollock made his appearance at the Golden Galleon 
the next dayTie was much too close an observer not to be at once 
aware that the Senora regarded him both with distrust and curiosity. 
She had apparently thoroughly made up her mind as to the rule she 
would play. As a mere matter ot business the detective alluded to 
the murder as one ot llie ordinary topics of conversation at present 
inter estiug the public mind, but the Senora was impenetrable. She 
listened unmoved to the latest details concerning it, which Mr. Pol- 
lock related for her edification; to all appearance it was a matter 
that had no interest for her; and as the detective made his way on 
to the skipper’s parlor, bent her liead in courteous adieu. 

” Women are rum ’uus,” muttered Mr. Pollock to himselt. 
” Give ’eni a few minutes to pull themselves together and the way 
they will take punishment is surprising. J^ow there’s that girl 
must be sick at heart over this murder*. There’s no doubt wdiat- 
evei she knew wtII the man who is killed and the one accused of 


STraj\^ DOWN. -57 

killing him. She must live in #*%tate of perpetual dread' of being 
put in the witness box and sharply examined on the subject. And 
yet to look at her face this morning, she might have no more to do 
with it than with a revolution in South America.” And as the in- 
spector came to this conclusion he reached the door of the skipper’s 
parlor. 

It was early certainly, and the room was not wont to fill up until 
late in tlie afternoon, still the inspector was taken a little aback at 
finding Dave Skirley the sole inmate of the apartment. Mr. Skir- 
iey looked up as the inspector entered. 

‘‘Nothing new about that murder, 1 suppose,” he said; “our 
police ain’t very spry, or else they’d have got hold of a bit more 
than they seem to have done. ^ They must know, or should know, 
that there were a good many more people in the citadel that night 
than Jack Furness. It’s odd the}'’ should have happened on him. 
There’s nobody here supposes he had anything to do with it; but 
as for getting out of that old citadel after the gates were closed, 
nobody can fancy an active seaman like Jack would have much 
difficulty about that.” 

‘‘ Done it yourself, no doubt,” replied Mr. Follock, dryly. 

” Done it, bless you, yes; and lots more of us. You’re a stranger 
in these parts, or else youTl know the ramparts is a great place for 
gallivanting. Well! you know, when lire young ’uus aie keeping 
company, they rather forget bow the clock’s going round. And it 
just as often happens as not that a girl would rather make her way 
out by herself than with a fellow she’s spoons on. I’m not talking 
of anything wrong, mind; but women get skeary, and desperate 
afraid of being compromised. Ah! well, governor, you’re a Lon- 
doner, and know more about these things than 1 do; but (be time of 
(lay has a deal to say to it. A girl gets squeamish about her char- 
acter after sundown; her people are likely to look askance at her 
if she comes home a liltle late, and she gets a bit shy of being seen 
in company with a man.” 

” "What the deuce are you driving ai?” interposed Mr. Pollock. 

” I’m not dirving at anything,” rejoined Mr. Skirley; ” 1 merely 
mean thi^t, though the police have been uncommon keen about ascer- 
taining that Jack Furness did not go (»ut of the gate afler gim-fire> 
they (l(»n’t seem to have troubled their heads about who the people 
were who did go out just before.” 

” ril tell you what, inv lad, you’re a man after my own heart; 
you’re a real sensible fellow,” replied Mr. Pollock. ‘‘Right you 
are—on such a lounge as (hose ramparts, people would be apt to 


68 


STRUCK DOWK. 


linger late on a summer's evening. There’s no yoiinsr woman you 
could put a name to, likely to be in the citadel that night, 1 sup- 
pose?*' 

“That’s neither here nor Ihere; what 1 knows, 1 knows— and 
keeps to myselt,” rejoined Mr. Skirley sententiousl3^ “But you 
seem mightily interested in this murder.” 

“ 1 always am in any great crime of this description. It’s a mono- 
mania with me. My dear friend, it you were accused of anything 
of the sort, you can’t conceive the interest with which 1 should fol- 
low the case. 1 should know you were not guilty; but the problem 
would have an absorbing interest for me.” 

“ Well, guv’nor,” rejoined the other, as he glanced somewhat un- 
easily at his companion, “you would be hardly called a pleasant pal 
under those circumstances; but no doubt the public take a great in- 
terest in that sort of thing,” 

“ They do, and 1 am one of the public. Mow, it would be a very 
curious tiling. Captain Skirley, if a young woman turned out to be 
at the bottom of this case, wouldn’t it? And, Lord bless you, a 
man of the w'orld like you, knows what they are.” 

Mow^, Mr. Pollock’s speech, albeit made a little at haphazard, 
flattered Dave Skirley. lie certainly had once or twice been in- 
trusted wdlh the command of a small ship, but his position in the 
mercantile navy was more strictly to be characterized as that of first 
mate, and it was as such he was usually looked upon fn the skip- 
per’s pardor. It w\as sweet incense to him to be addits-ed as C’ap- 
tain Skirley, as that title was rarely vouchsafed to him by the habi- 
tues ot the room. Then again, there never was a man was 

not flattered by being complimented on bis superior knowledge of 
the other sex. They all ihink they understand them, and it is only 
the few wily and experienced veterans wdio frankly acknowledge 
that wmman and her ways are past their comprehension. 

“It ain’t for me to speak,” rejoined Dave Skirley, at lengthy 
'* but 1 should not be surprised if you weren’t far out of it. The 
police haven’t got to the kernel of the case yet; and 1 expect they 11 
poller round a good deal more before they do. But I’ll tell you 
wliat it is,” said Mr. Skirley, “ you’ll find there’s a pair of silk 
stockirigs at the boitom of this, before you’ve done.” 

“What a judge you are!” replied Mr. Pollock, with a wink; 
“ you do understand ’em, you do. Thai’s it, sir; that’s it, Captain 
Skirley; she was in the citadel, and waltzing around that evening; 
and, ot course, she set the two by the ears, and then, woman-like, 
she w’altzed out. Now, 1 wonder it these fellow^s here will ever hit 


STRUCK DOWN. 


59 


Tipon that? You’ll see, they’ll so on bothering about Caplain Fur- 
ness, slicking to it that he’s the man, but utterly torgetling the main 
point, that they’ve got to prove he’s the man. These provincial 
peelers, you see, always overlook these little niceties.” 

” 1 say, tell you what it is, my Diend, 1 d m’t quite understand a 
man who talks of niceties about a murder.” 

” No, no. Captain Skirley, very, very few people do. The mur- 
derer probably never; but the man merely curious in crime, like 
myselt, has his artistic views just as the man who haunts the first 
views of the picture-galleries— a morbid taste, 1 regret to own; but 
we can’t control our fancies in this manner. Some people like com- 
edy, some people revel in tragedy. There are those who can’t resist 
the attractions of Madame Tussaud’s and the Chamber of Horrors, 
and there have been those who couldn’t resist the attraction of a 
* hangino; match.’ Odd, captain, but a fact all the same. A mys- 
terious murder is always a riddle to me. Hie solving of which 1 am 
much interested in; and I’ll tell you what, captain, right you are, 
there’s a petticoat will prove to be the cause of this;” with which 
Mr. Pollock rose somewhat abruptly, and with a curt ” good-day,” 
left the parlor. 


CHAPTER XIL 

TOM LEADER HAS VISITORS. 

Lieutenant Leader was somewhat astonished one morning in 
the middle of his toilet by the appearance of Simmons. In answer 
to his master’s rather snappish interrogatory, ” What the deuce is 
the matter now?” he replied; 

” Tliere’s two gentlemen wanting to see you, sir. They say they 
must do it.” 

“Did you tell them 1 was in my tub?” replied Mr. Leader, 
sharply. 

” Yes, sir. 1 always tell ’em that at this hour in the morning.” 

” Them ” meant collectively any intruders on Mr. Leader’s pri- 
vacy, as Simmons was aware that his master hated being liothered 
while dressing. Indeed, Mr. Leader’s meritorious struggles to be in 
time for parade admitted of no interruptions. 

” What do they look like?” he inquired at last ” Duns?” 

‘‘ No, sir. One’s a fellow who has been loafing about the ser- 
geants’ mess ever since poor Mr. Clayford came by his death. As 


60 


STJIUCK 


for Uie other, 1 can ouly say he’s more wrapped up than any gen- 
lleman I ever saw in this weather.” 

” Well, show tlum in,” said Tom. And in another minute Sim- 
mons ushered into his master s little sitting-room Mr. Pollock and a 
companion, whose lace was carefully enveloped in a silk muffler. 

Oh! it s you?” said Tom, as he welcomed the detective. ‘‘ bit 
down, both of you. That’ll do, Simmons; you can wait (mtside. 
I’ll halloa when I want you.” 

” Now, gentlemen, I’m rather in a hurry— ” 

‘‘I won’t detain you five minutes,” interrupted Mr. Pollock. 
” I’ve just about a couple of questions to pul to your servant, and 
all 1 w’ant to ask first is, can be bo depended upon to hold his 
longue, more especially if hc*s a little bit frightened?” 

” Well, as far as my knowledixe goes he’s not a talkative man. 
But wfflat the deuce do you want to ask him?’' 

” Just this, Mr. Leader. First, what he got cartridges for to fit 
your pistol; and, secondly, where he kept them.” 

” But he never got any,” ejaculated Tom, in astonishment. 

” Now, don’t you fidget yourself about that, sir, because 1 know 
he did, and where he bought them, and all about it. I'm going to 
prove it to you in about three minutes. Bear in mind 1 don’t think 
he is the criminal, but he’s keeping bacK a rather important circum- 
stance fiom us. Now, there are two ways to get at the unwilling 
witness of this kind: one is insidious croffe-cxaminalion, the other 
is simply to ‘ pounce.’ Now, sir, if you will call Simmons in, I’m 
just going to pounce.” 

‘‘ Simmons!” roaied Mr. Leader, in a slate of much curiosity as 
to wdiat was to follows Another instant and that servitor entered 
the apartment. 

” Now, my man,” said the detective, sharply, taking the whole 
affair at once into his hands, ” I’m Inspector Pollock, of Scolhind 
Yard. What did yon w^ant with all these pistol cartridges?” and 
as he concluded, he produced one from his w’aistcoat pocket. 
‘‘ Now, don’t troul le/>'ourself to deny it,” interposed the inspector, 
sharply, as Simmons 'was evidently about to enter a protestation 
” This cartridge came out of one of the undischarged chambers of 
your master’s pistol. There sits Mr. Crinkle, who keeps the big 
shop in Devon port where you bought them, and two of whose 
young men will be able to identify you and swear to selling them 
to you at different times. Now, don’t you fluster yourself, my man; 
keep cool. 1 don’t suppose for a moment that you shot Mr. Clay- 
ford, but it 3 011 are an innocent man, the more candid you arc about 


STKUCK DOWlSr. 


61 


those oartridges the better; if otherwise, 3^011 can’t keep your 
mouth too closely shut. Take time before you answer.” 

The sharp, quick, incisive woicls of the detective seemed to fasci- 
nate his hearers. As for Mr. Crinkle, to find his pleasant, pushing, 
rather talkative companion of Chubb’s Hotel suddenly transformed 
into the determined, inflexible man of action, left him. quite bewil- 
dered. Till Mr. Pollock had announced himself he had no concep- 
tion of his real character. The ir^spector had suggested that they 
should simply go up to the citadel and see if they could identity the 
man who bought those cartridges. Mr. Crinkle was tickled at the 
idea of doing a little bit of amateur detective, and had no idea that 
one of the cracks of Scotland Yard was his companion. 

There was a dead silence in the room for a minute or two, during 
which Simmons’s perturbation was perfectly evident to tlie lookers- 
on. 

” Well, Mr. Leader, 1 meant no harm. God knows 1 bore Mr. 
Clayford no ill will; but I’d better make a clean breast of it now 
as 1 ought to have done at first. Y’ou see, sir, 1 had to keep that 
pistol clean, and when 1 look it down it came across me one day to 
see whether it really did shout well, and, shortly after that, i got a 
batch of cartridges to fit it, and then 1 had a bit of private practice 
at the back of the ditch. Well, sir, 1 got rather fond ot it, and the 
consequence was that whenever 1 cleaned her 1 had fifteen or twenty 
shots out ot her. 1 usually kept such cartridges as were over down 
in the kitchen.” ' 

‘‘ That’ll do, my man,” said Mr. Pollock. ” How, Mr. Leader^ 
if 3 mu will allow me to put one more question, this man may go, 
and 1 don’t think 1 shall want him again, except in the witness- 
box.” 

” Certainly; fire away,” rejoined Tom, who had listened to this 
simple explanation of what had seemed such an inscrutable mystery 
with the .greatest interest. 

“You are quite certain,” .?iaid Mr. Pollock, ” that the pistol was 
unloaded when 3-011 last hung it up?” 

“ Quite,” replied Simmons; “1 alwa.ys cleaned it after using it. 
To have left it loaded would have been, perhaps, to let my master 
discover what 1 was doing.” 

“And of course,” suddenly interposed Mr. Pollock, sharply* 
“ there was nothing to prevent any one getting at these cartridges if 
they wanted to do so? They weren’t locked up, 1 mean?” 

“Ho, sir. Tiie 3 ^ were in a drawer of the old dicsser in the kitch- 
en. There are some there now. J can’t rightly say how many 


62 


STRUCK DOWN. 


without looking, nor could 1 say tor certain whether any have been 
taken from the diawer or not.” 

” Thank you, my man,” said Mr. Pollock, affably. ” It’s a ihou-' 
fiand pities you couldn’t have come out with all this at the inquest, 
lou see we know now how that pistol could be loaded. Anybody 
surreptitiously wandering about the premises would be likely to lind 
both pistol and ammunition. That point is solved. That’ll do, 
thank you, Simmons. ."Now, Mr. Leader,” he continued, as the 
servant left the room, ” 1 don’t want this little discovery mentioned. 
[Not, mind you, that 1 want to keep a gentleman like j^ourselt in the 
Clark. .Resides, bless me, what would be the use of my tiying to 
mystify a couple of intelligent gentlemen like you and Mr. Crinkle? 
It’s all clear enough now. All we’ve got to find out is, who used 
that pistol?” 

” Ju^t so,” said Mr. Leader, who really did labor under the delu- 
sion that they were close on the track of the murderer. 

Mr. Crinkle, with a mind trained to acute, inquiry, knew better. 
They had made a slight step on the road to discovery by ascertain- 
ing how the cartridges had been obtained with which the pistol was 
loaded, but they had got no further. 

As they left Mr. Leader’s quarters, Mr. Crinkle ventured to make 
a remark to that effect. 

Mr. Pollock smiled compassionately upon his companion, as he 
lejoined : 

” Now, Mr. Crinkle, you’re a man with a liead and not a cocoa- 
nut. y<)U don’t suppose 1 haven’t more cards iu my hand than 1 
put down on the table to day? But, dear me, it would never do to 
let a young gentleman like Mr. Leader into it. Why, he’ll tell the 
story of those cartridges at lunch, dinner, and two or three supper 
parties before lie goes to bed to-night. Very few of ’em at his age 
coil’ll help it. Well, it can’t do much liarm, and what’s more to 
the point, 1 couldn’t prevent it. 1 was bound to know the history 
of those cartridges before we went any further. Now, Mr. Ci inkle, 
you’re a close man. You can keep your tongue between your teeth, 
you can. The story of those cartridges and two or three other things, 
1 don’t mind confessing to you, make things look uncommon awk- 
ward for file prisoner. But it’s a lov^ely case, sir, a lovely case, and 
3t’s quite possible we haven’t started the right hare as yet.” 

Still, after parting with his friend Mr. Crinkle, Mr. Pollock, as 
he turned things over in his mind, could come to no other conclu- 
sion but the evidence commenced to accumulate against Jack Fur- 
ness. He knew what llie public (lid not know—tliat there was 


STRUCK DOWK. 


63 


rivalry between the two men for the girl’s love, and wiiat that has 
Jed to is an old world story. And now' that it w^as explained that the 
pistol could be almost said to have been found loaded to his hand, 
one might get an inkling of the truth. Mr. Pollock’s rough theory 
of the tragedy at present was that Furness, mad for an explanation 
witli his rival, got into Mr. Leader’s quarters by mistake; that, 
chafing with impatience at Mr. Claytord’s iton appearance, he 
fidgeted about the room till he found the pistol; then, getting still 
more irritable, he wandered down-staiis to the kitchen, in search 
probably of somebody w^ho could tell him where he could see Mr. 
Clayford, and there found the cartridges; that then waxing hotter 
and hotter in his wrath, he loaded the pistol, and having by some 
accident at length discovered he was in the wrong rooms, made hi& 
way to CUyford’s quarters, and there, furious at his supposed 
wrongs, intensified by the hour he had had to brood over them, he 
used the pistol with the fatal result recorded, and then escaped ov’er 
the back of the rampart. 

“ Yes,” muttered Mr. Pollock, ” 1 can’t anyhow see more than 
two in it. q’here is, of course, just a suspicion that the girl might 
have done it heivelf, but it is hardly likely; they do kill their sw^eec- 
hearts at times, but this last letter of hers doesn’t point to that. She 
don’t even hint at going near his rooms. She merely invites him to 
meet her on the ramparts; which, as everybody tells me, is about as- 
open a promenade as the Hoe. Still there is just the chance, and, 
though 1 can’t see a panicle of evidence against her at present, one 
can never tell the unforeseen that may turn up in a business of this 
sort.” ♦ 

As Mr. Pollock rightly surmised, Air. Leader had told the story 
of tliose cartridges, under the seal of strictest confidence, to half a» 
dozen pwple before luncheon. Of course it became common prop- 
erty through the barracks in a few hours, and then there was m(jre 
than one of the men who could testify to Simmons’s weakness for 
pistol practice. When a fact like this became so well known in the 
citadel, it was not likely to be very long finding its way down the 
Citadel Hill, and the consequence was that all the western local 
papers had startling headings in their next issue, such as ” The 
Citadel Mystery,” “ Discovery of the Cartridges,” ‘‘Clew to the 
Alurderer,” etc. The ‘‘ Plymouth and Exeter Gazette ” arrived as- 
usual at the Golden Galleon, where, as may be easily supposed, 
it was diligently perused in the skipper’s parlor. There was, per- 
haps, no section ot the inhabitants of Plymouth more deeply inter- 
ested in this inquiry than the frequenters ot that hostelry. Was not 


64 


STRUCK DOWX. 


Jack Purness one of themselves? AVas it not preposterous to sup- 
pose that any one of them couUl commit a cowardly murder? Kill 
a man in fair tight! — well, perhaps that did occur sometimes in the 
way of their profession, but a cold-blooded murder-r-??^^^;’.^ There 
w'as ne’er a man in the.skipper’s parlor who would be guilty of such 
cur’s work as that. Very positive on this point was Captain Kore- 
ton, not given to say much, but very emphatic, in what he did say, 
and garnishing it with strong language, not necessary to reproduce , 
and the brotherhood generally quite supported this opinion. Still 
there were one or two exceptions, and notably the head of these was 
Dave Skirley, who argued: 

“ "You can’t tell what provocation was offered a man. It’s all 
very well,” he would say, ” what do you know about its being a 
cold-blooded murder? It’s quite possible that the man’s blood was 
at boiling-point w^hen he did it. There ain’t nothing to show to the 
contrary. If Jack Furness did do it, it isn’t likely, as you all say, 
that he did it without strong provocation. But how do you know 
he didn’t get it? that’s what 1 want to know.” 

“ Cleverly put, Captain Skirley, cleverly put,” chimed in Mr. 
Pollock, who assisted with the greatest inteiest at most of these dis- 
cussions; ‘‘ we never can tell, w'e never can tell; there miaht have 
been a young woman mixed up in it, for all we know\ Cracious 
me! a bit of muslin has set the world in flames, much more a mere 
human being, over and over again, since the days of that old Greek 
chap who wrote such a big hook about it, and 1 dare say before, only 
there was nobody to pul it down.” 

• But there was one person at the Golden Galleon who, although 
outwardly professing the greatest indifference concerning the citadel 
mystery, showed in her face the absorbing interest she took in it all. 
Tliose veteran mariners shook their heads, and, honest olci sea-dogs, 
tried to cheer her up by telling her that nobody believed Jack Fur- 
ness was guilty. But the dark circles under the girl’s eyes, their 
scared, frightened expression, and the wan, listless smile, all pointed 
1o the nervous tension she was enduring. 

” Difllcnlt to follow are young women,” growded Captain Nore- 
ton; ” never guessed she was so sweet, poor thing, on Jack Furness 
myself.” 

Mr. Pollock not only noticed the change in the Senora’s manner 
and appearance, but pretty well everlhingelse that passed under the 
roof of the Golden Galleon. That tavern, indeed, had never cn- 
lertained a guest before with such powers of observation. 


STRUCK DOWN. 


65 


CHAPTER Xlll. 

THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS. 

The Dext link in the chain ot the citadel mystery was again dis- 
covered by the Plymouth police. They had not only got hold ot 
wlial they firmly believed to be the real criminal, but they had also 
discovered two very damaging letters against him. After the arrest 
of Captain Furntss, the police made inquisition, not into his new 
apartment at the Golden Galleon, but into his late quarters. 
There they found a big sea-chest that had been left behind, together 
with one or two smaller packages. As for the sea-chest, its contents 
were pretty much what might be expected, with one exception. In 
it was a small writing-desk, and amongst the tew letters which it 
contained were the two above alluded to, of which Mr. Pollock 
at once recognized the importance. One had been addressed to the 
ship’s agents, and evidently forwarded to Falmouth, doubtless with 
other papers, on Captain Furness unexpectedly putting in at that 
port; the other bore nothing but the Plymouth postmark, and was 
directed to the address in Devonport at which the piisoner had re- 
sided previous to his appearance at the Golden Galleon. The 
first of them ran; 

“ There is a merry welcome prepared tor you when you touch 
shoie. The girl whom yuii think cares about you, has done her 
best to console herself whde you were afloat. Mahe up your mind 
10 find yourself cut adrift when you arrive at Plymouth. It’s the 
way or ’em all. Take advice and be a man; whistle her down the 
wind, unless, indeed, 3^ou’re the sort the writer is, who stands pirat- 
ical cutting out from no man. If 1 found a soldiei officer had laid 
himself alongside a girl ot my choosing, 1 think I’d choke the life 
out of him. Yours truly, 

A well-wisher.” 

The second letter, which bore only the Plymouth postmark, and 
was evidently in the same handwriting as the first, was as follows: 

‘‘ Well, you’ve ascertained for yourself by this time that wdiat I 
told you is true. You know that the girl whom you w^ere trying^ 
hard to win has picked up another swet^lheart. If you want to con- 
vince yourstlf of the tact, you’d best be on the citadel ramparts 
betwebii eiirht and nine to-night at the back ot theofficeis’ quarters. 

If you don’t find her there, perhaps you’d better ask for Mr. Clay- 
ford’s rooms. No doubt you will convince yourself that she can 
manage to get on without you. Yours truly, 

‘‘ A SINCERE WELL-WISHER.” 


3 


66 


STRUCK DOWK. 


When Mr. Pollock read these two letters, piecing in as they so 
accurately did with those other three letters, which he alw’ ays car- 
ried in his pocket, he simply said to himself; “ I’ll put the mur- 
derei of Mr. Clayford in the dock, I’d stake niy head. W'hether a 
jury choose to convict him, or a judge to hang him, is not my bus- 
iness. i can’t put my finger on him this minute, but 1 should be 
utterly unworthy ot my reputation if, wu'tli all the information now 
so rapidly falling into my possession, 1 couldn’t pick him out for 
certain in the next three weeks. Two points are pietty clear to me 
from these letters. The writer was undoubtedly, from their style 
and the language they are couched in, a sea-faring man; and another 
thing, the Senora was on the citadel ramparts that luckless evening. 
Whether she met Furness, whether she met Clayford, or whether 
these two men met, is what I’ve got to discover. She left, no doubt, 
before the gates were closed. Another point, too: this ‘ w'ell- 
WMsher ’ must probably have borne considerable enmity to one or the 
other, or he never would have penned those notes. It is not quite 
the way a friend of either party would conduct himself under the 
circumstances. No, there's malice at the bottom of it, and 1 don’t 
suppose their writer is much concerned at the tragedy he has ingen- 
iously brought about. One thing is quite clear, he meant to bring 
these tw^o men face to face, and when two young men are nuts on 
the same young woman there’s safe to be bad blood betw’een them. 
Still, it wants a lot more piecing out. Ilow did Furness get into 
Leader’s room? what on earth set him hunting for cartridges? and 
did the Senora meet both, or either of them? Well, the first thing, 
no doubt, is, 1 must examine the sentries who were on the citadel 
gate, or rather get Major Griffith to do so. 1 don’t quite want to 
proclaim my individuality as yet, as 1 am afraid it would close the 
mouths of all the skipper’s parlor in my presence; and 1 take con- 
siderable interest in both what Captain Noreton and Captain Skir- 
ley may say on this subject.” 

Major Griffith, on being appealed to, promptly responded. 

” There can scarcely be,” he said, ” more than two men to exam- 
ine, probably only one. The guard reports will show us in a min- 
ute whied) of the two soldiers we want to see. I’ll have them up 
to my quarters quietly, and question them before you. Any inter - 
rogatory you think proper to suggest you may put to them, or if 
you prefer to cross-examine them yourself, pray do so.” 

” No, sir,” replied Mr. Pollock, “ 1 prefer you doing it. 1 wish 
to excite as little attention as possible.” 

But the inspector was considerably disappointed in the result ot 


STIiUCK DOWN. 


67 


this investigalion. There was no trouble about ascertaining tie 
two nr.en— the one who had actually been on sentry when the ^ate 
was closed, and his comrade, who had preceded him in that duty — 
but trom neither of them could any information be extracted likely 
to throw any light upon the mystery of Mr, Clay lord’s death. Yes, 
they had both seen several women of all sorts pass in and out dur- 
ing their term of sentry. Many they knew as wives of their com- 
rades; but there were many others; some ladies, some not, appar- 
ently, of whom they knew nothing, whom they had never seen be- 
fore, and could not be at all certain of recognizing again. 

“ Did he see any young woman pass out just before the gates 
were closed?” the sentinel then posted on the gate was asked. 

” Certainly, he did; four or five young w^omen passed out about 
that time. They were well dressed and that was all he knew about 
il.” 

” Did any young woman pass out by herself on that occasion?” 

” Yes, two; he couldn’t say that there hadn’t been three; couldn’t 
<|uite recollect about that circumstance; had been on guard there 
many times, and a lady going in or out was too every-day an affair 
to attract much attention. People from the town constantly came 
for a walk round the ramparts.” 

” Well,” said Major Griffith when the two soldiers had been dis- 
missed, “lam afraid, Mr. Pollock, you have made very little out 
of this incpiiry?” 

“No, sir!” rejoined the detective frankly. “No; 1 haven’t got 
hold of a man yet who can give me the information 1 require, bu^ 
he’s in the barracks, sir; and 1 shall light on him, never fear, before 
the week s out.” 

“ No, no,” muttered Mr. Pollock to himself as he walked away 
from the major’s quarters, “the Senora is not the sort of young 
woman men forget having seen. A girl with a walk like hers would 
make even a sentry look round, and that she w^as in the citadel that 
evenimr I’d bet my life!” 

During the next few days Mr. Pollock hung a good deal about 
the non-commissioned officers’ mess in the citadel. He got excess- 
iyely friendly with Sergeant Plane, and was rather fond of talking 
over the circumstances of the murder with him, so far as they had 
transpired. He told him confidentially that the police supposed 
there was a female at the bottom of it. “ But they say they can’t 
make anything out of your nn n upon the gate. They seemed to 
notice so little who goes in or goes out until such time as the gate is 
closed.” 


68 


STRUCK DOWN. 


“ Well/’ rep’ied the sergeant, “ you can liarclly expect it. There’s 
people passing iroin gun-fire to tattoo, and unless somelliing special 
attracts his attention, the sentry on the gate is hardly likely to notice 
them. The police would have done better to fiave sought information 
from the sentries round tlie ramparts. You see there’s not so mucli to 
distract their attention, and they’re more likely to remark anybody 
lounging in the vicinity ot their posts. People pass the gate quickly, 
but about the ramparts they loiter, gossip, sit down, admire the 
view, etc.” 

Mr. Pollock was not mulish in his disposition; and quick to take 
a hint, Sergeant Blane’s suggestion was quite enou h fi)r him. A 
very few minutes’ reflection, and he exclaimed to himself, ‘‘ What 
a diindeiheaded fool I've been! Tlie sentry at the back of the 
othcers’ quarters is, of course^ the man 1 want.” 

The inspector determined to say nothing about that just now. He 
knew it would be easy to ascertain who the men were who had oc- 
cupied that post. His friend Sergeant Blane could settle that for 
him in a few minutes. The next thing to be done was to keep care- 
ful w’itch upon the Golden Galleon, to mix freely in the skipper’s 
parlor, and await what might turn up. 

Now there happened at this time a rather singular circumstance; 
it seems absurd to say that the committal of one crime could possi- 
bly have anything to do with the detection ot another to which it 
bore no relation whatever; that the very actors in ihe one drama 
had never even seen the actors in the other; but life generally is com- 
posed of as rrany wheels as a watch. 

Just now took place a forgery case, and the skippers, who, 
after the shipping intelligence, usually devoted themselves to the 
peruvsal ot the annals of crime in the dail}’’ papers, got considerably 
interested in this. Like all great iorgery cases, there vv as of course 
much controversy about calligraphy, whether the testators will had 
really been signed by himself, or whether the man who strove to 
upset it had written that and one or two other documents for him. 
This subject seemed to interest Mr. Pollock very much. He pro- 
fessed considerable disbelief in handwriting being imitated so closely 
that those thoroughly conversant with it would not at once delect 
the deception. He was always jocularl}^ chidlenging the captains 
to try and imitate his, or let him imitate theirs. But these veteran 
sea-dogs were not so cunning witli their pens as to deem this at all 
an interesting amusement. Wriiing was to them a somewhat labor 
ions exercise, and though now and again Mr. Pollock had induced 
one or other of them to write their names and allow him to do his 


STRUCK DOWK. 


69 


cliiriisy best to imitate them, the amusement was voted stale and un- 
profitable. Dave bkirley, for instance, quite declined to exhibit his 
penmanship. He said that “he was no scholar, and that writing 
was a deal of trouble at all times, and was quite bad enough when 
you were oblige<l to do it; for his part, when he was taking his 
spell ashore, he did not want to be bothered with pens and paper.’’ 

Mr. Pollock only laughed good-hiimoiedly. Still he was always 
persistently gettirijr hold of a sheet of paper and writing down tlie 
names of everyone in the room. He would Say, iokingly, “ Now, 
Captain Skirley, 1 never saw your signature in my life. But that’s 
the sort of way a man like you would sign his name. Now there 
you are. Captain Noreton, that’s pretty close to yours anyhow;” 
and old Norelon would rejoin, with a grim laugh, “ 1 don’t think 
that at the foot of a note would ever draw old Kit Noreton’s paj" 
from his employers. Tell you what it is, my man, you’ll never 
make your living at this trade.” 

“ No,” rejoined Mr. Pollock, “ 1 always take an interest in these 
sort of things, but penal servitude seems to be what most of ’em 
make out ot it, sooner or later. As for their living, wdiy it isn’t 
fifty years ago since many of them came to their death by it. Still, 
gentlemen. I’ve heard up in London there are men who will dash 
you olf a signature alter three days’ practice that would deceive tho 
very owmer of that signature himself. 1 am told that these men 
positively make a precarious living out of it. They are not numer- 
ous; they live in out of-lhe-way places and are difficult to obtain 
access to. It is their one accomplishment, and they don’t make 
enough at the game to keep themselves in affluence. According to 
my information they simply take a certain sum down to forge for 
other people, and as a rule, don’t even know what the signature 
they imitate is wanted for.” 

“ 1 suppose they would find themselves among the breakers if 
they were spoiled,” said Captain Noreton. 

“ Yes,” replied Mr. Pollock. “ 1 don’t lightly know what comes 
ot it exactly, but you can’t carry ou games with another man’s sig- 
nature without paying for it.” 

ISiill tor all his rhaft and ingenious utilizing of this most con^^en- 
ient forgery case, Mr. Pollock totally failed to interest the skipper’s 
parlor in attempting to reproduce each other’s handwriting. 

Bui tiie inspector was indefatigable. It thtre w^as nothing to be 
made out ot the Golden Galleon, still there might be something to 
be wrung out of the barracks. He did not apply to IMajor Griffith 
upon this occasion; he quietly went to his friend Sergeant Blane 


STRUCK DOWK. 


70 

and asked him to let him have a talk '^ith the soldier who was on 
sentry at the back of the officers’ quarters at the time the two fatal 
shots were fired. 

“ Kot much difficulty about that,” rejoined the sergeant. “ You 
take a strange inteiest in this murder; and lor the matter of that, 
there isn’t a man in the citadel that doesn’t w^ant to see the assassin 
brought to justice. It’s youi duty, 1 suppose, to collect all the in- 
formation you can, and you shall certainly see the man you want to, 
though 1 don’t suppose you’ll make much out of him. He has ab 
ready stated that he heard the two shots, and saw no suspicious per- 
son about the quarters.” 

“ Now\ sergeant, 1 tell you what it is. You’re a good sort, and 
it’s time you and 1 understood each other. Now look here. 1 am 
Inspector Pollard, of Scotland Yard, sent down to investigate this 
very murder. You’re a quiet, sensible man, who don’t gabble. 
What are w'e going to do? I’ll just tell you. We’re going to turn 
this sentry inside out; it’s my impression he is keeping back some- 
thing 1 want to know% simply from ignorance, and has no idea that 
the information is of any value. Now, seigeant, we’ll just manage 
our little cross-examination betw^een us. When 1 ask a question 
you can keep on pegging aw^ay till you see clearly I’ve got at what 
wanted. ’1 ain’t very much and w’on’t take us a quarter of an hour. 
If Mrs. Blane w^ouldn’t mind, and you will allow me to send for a 
cool tankard, we hud better see this chap at your quarters.” 

Private {Sampson, having been sent for, w^as duly questioned. As 
Sergeant Blane had predicted, he could say nothing further in con- 
nection with the murder than he had already told; but now that 
gallant non-commissioned officer w^as left in hopeless bewilderment 
at the new line of questioning taken up by the inspector. Had Pri- 
vate Sampson seen a dark, w’ell-dressed, good-looking young 
w^oman loitering in the vicinity of his post any lime betw^een seven 
and the hour the gates were closed? Y"es, decidedly he had; he 
recollected her perfectly, and should know her again if he saw her. 
She was walking up and down tor a good quarter of an hour be- 
tween his post and the next angle of the ramparts. At the end of 
that time she was met by a young man in sailor costume. They 
were pretty far from his post wffien they joined each other, and he 
couldn’t say what occurred hctween them at all. 

“ Did they leave the citadel together?” asked Mr. Pollock. 

“No!” replied Sampson, firmly, “of that 1 am quite confident. 
The lady passed me by herself on her w^ay to the gate a few min- 
utes before the last post sounded.” 


STRUCK DOWiT. 


71 


“ And her sailor friend?’' inquired Mr. Pollock, inteirogalively. 

“ 1 don’t know, sir; 1 don’t know what became of him. 1 never 
saw him except in the distance, and couldn’t swear to liiin if you 
showed him to me to-morrow.” 

” That’s all 1 want to know, sergeant; we needn't detain Samp- 
son any longer,” said Mr. Pollock in an undertone, and thereupon 
the little conclave broke up. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SUBSCRIPTION FOR THE DEFENSE. 

Captain Furness, when next brought before the magistrates, 
once more admits his presence in the citadel, but declines to give 
any reason for his being there. In short, wiietlier by the advice of 
counsel or at his own discretion, the sailor quietly but firmly re- 
fuses to answer all questions relating to that fatal evening. 

” ifou are charged, remember,” said the chairman of the magis- 
trate's bench, ” with a terrible crime, of wdiicli we can scarcely 
believe you to be guilty. Surely a little explanation on your part. 
Captain Furness, would enable us at all events to remand you on 
bail. As it is, 1 must warn you that fresh evidence is about to be 
produced against you, which, without some such explanation, 
will, 1 tear, leave us no alternative but to once more consign you 
to custody.” 

No,- he will not speak. .Jack Furness thanked the magistrates, 
but simply replied that he had nothing to say. 

Sergeant Blood, of the Plyniouth police force, to whom Mr. Pob 
lock, not at all wishing to as yet take a prominent part in the pro- 
ceedings, had delegated the charge of the case, now produced the 
two anonymous letters which we have already seen. 

” These, gentlemen, we consider point clearly to a strong rivalry 
between the prisoner and the deceased for the affections of some 
young woman, whose name we have not so far been able to ascer- 
tain.” 

” 1 don't think much of anonymous letters,” rejoined Mr. Eldon^ 
one of the magistrates. “It is the sort of testimony^ on which I 
w'ouUln’t commit a dog.” 

“ We believe, sir,” replied Sergeant Blood, ” that we shall before 
long not only produce the wriler of those letiers, but the young 
woman to w^hom they refer.” 


STRUCK D0^y2S^. 


72 


“ In consequence, gentlemen,” interposed the counsel for the 
prosecution, ‘‘ we ask tor a further remand.” 

” 1 presume,” rejoined the solicitor for the defense, ” (hat as 
there is nothing more against my client beyf»nd two anonymous leU 
ters, and the fact that, like several hundred otl»er people, lie liap- 
pened to he in the citadel on the night of the murder, you will now 
release him on bail.” 

” Bail, as you know, is raiely allowed in the case of such crimes 
as you client is charged with. It is, 1 may say, entirely at his own 
discretion,” said Mr. Eldon, sternly. ‘‘ If Captain Furness will 
give an explanation of wh}’^ he was in the citadel on that evening 
he wou’d at once dissipate the most suspicious circumstance in his 
case, and 1 have no doubt we should feel able to release him on bail. 
If he Is an innocent man, why should he hesitate to at once clear 
his character? If a guilty one, he can not be too reticent.” 

” Of course,” rejoined the prisoner’s solicitor, ” the decision rests 
with you, gentlemen, but 1 must venture to again point out that 
evidence against my client there is simply none, and to commit liim 
to prison 'on a charge of this nature is to inflict a stain upioii his 
name that will adhere to him for life.” 

‘‘ We will take that responsibility upon ourselves,” rejoined Mr. 
Eldon, ‘‘and though to some extent admitting the justice of what 
you say, simply reply that his release on hail lies in Captain Fur- 
ness’s own hands; as he declines to speak, we have no choice but to 
recommit him till this day week.” 

‘‘ Well,” said Mr. Pollock, as he walked away with his now great 
chum, Captain Noreton, ” these country magistrates are stunners. 
You would have had to produce a little more evidence before a 
metropolitan beak to induce him to still keep a man like Captain 
Furness in custody. However, the police, no doubt, have got some- 
thing behind, and no doubt have given the Bench a pretty strong 
hint of it, although they have not thought fit to show their hand as 
yet. But they must next week; to go on remanding such a man as 
Captain Furness on such evidence as that is preposterous. ” 

“No,” replied Captain Noreton, ‘‘they did not seem to think 
them anonymous letters counted for much. Of course they don’t. 
Nobody but a cow'ardly lubber writes things of that sort he’s afraid 
to put bis name to. It’s odd,” he continued, ” about the oirl. 
Why, w^e all thought that Jack Furness w^as sweet upon the Sen- 
ora, and as for Mr. Clay ford, wdiy, 1 doubt if he ever saw her.” 

“Ah! there it is,” said Mr. Pollock, ‘‘you’re a straiglil-going 
man, Captain Noreton. You thoroughly believe iu Jack Furness; 


STRUCK DOWN. 


73 


you’ve an ulter contempt for a man who don’t sign his name to his 
letter. And yet there it is; these anonymous letters are already 
aflecting j^onr mind; it’s always the way, sir. Throw the dirt in 
that form, and some of it’ll stick. Mr. Eldon, the Chairman of the 
Beiich, bravely denounced tnem to-day, but by next week he’ll have 
come to think there’s something in them after all.” 

‘‘ By — but let the tremendous observation of Captain Noie- 
ton remain unrecorded, ” you’re right, sir. 1 was on tiie point of 
becoming a white-livered skunk myself. Split my stay-sail, but 
every man in the parlor shall write his name to-night. They can’t 
make any mistake about the handwriting, and it ain’t the least 
likely that any one of ourloi would play it as low on Jack Furness 
as that. But you say you were allowed a sight of those letters?” 

‘‘ Weil, by chance 1 was. 1 know one of the officers of the police 
force here, and he got me a glimpse of them.” 

” Then of course you would recognize the handwriting if you 
saw it?” 

” I don’t quite know about that. 1 sliould know if it was any- 
thing like, but it takes a skilled hand. Captain IMoreton, to identify 
handwriiing.” 

” By heavens, then, I’ll try it!” said the captain, suddenly stop- 
ping in his walk. ” You’re about to sheer olf now to your own crib, 

1 reckon, but rmu come down to the Golden Galleon to-niglit, and 
you’ll see old Kit Noreton will have the names of every one in the 
house on paper. I’m not going to have this sort of cloud hanging 
over the place; besides, we ought to do more for a shipmate in 
trouble than sit grizzling and saying how sorry we are, like a pack of 
old women. What he wants is help. Well, 1 guess tlie best help 
we car. give him now is to find him plenty of money for lawyers and 
such-’ ike. AVhen you get into awkward navigation amongst the 
shoals and quicksands, to engage a first-class pilot is the best thing 
you can. do, to my thinking. That’s always a matter of money, and 
these lawyers, they tell me, like a Channel pilot, don’t take charge 
of the ship except for a stiffish figure. D — me, 1 start a subscrip- 
tion list for Jack Furness’s defense in the ‘ parlor’ to-night, and 
mind you’re there to put your fist to it.” 

There was a very full meeting in the parlor that evening. The 
proceedings of the police-court were in every man’s mouth, and in 
no place in all the city were they more earnestly discussed than in 
that ‘‘ tobacco parliament” of the Golden Galleon. ” It was a slain 
iqion the predession,” observed one orator, ‘‘ What! accuse poor 
Jack Furness, who frequented this parlor reg’lar, of the murder? 


74 


STRUCK DOWN. 


1 s’pose they’ll accuse oue or other ot us of having written those 
'nonymous letters next. That ’ud he a pretty slur, shipmates, to 
be cast on a steady set of seafaring men such as frequent this 
bouse.” 

In the meantime, Captain JSoreton was observed to be laboriously 
engaged with a pen, ink, and paper, at the side-table. At last he 
geemed satisfied with the result of his labors, and turnine: round 
to the speakers he suddenly broke into the conversation. 

‘‘ There you are,” he said, ” all cackling aw^ay like so many rooks 
in the springtime. Think Jack Furness did it!” he continued, bring- 
ing his brawny hand heavil}^ down on the table. “ Why, w’e know 
he didn’t. Bui he's got amongst the quicksands, and we’ve got to 
see him through it. ISow w’hat Jack Furness w^ants is a pi ot. 
Well! we all know there’s pilots for different waters, and the man 
who takes you up the Hooghly would be mighty little use to take 
aboard at Dungeness. What Jack Furness w^ants is a legal pilot; 
and wdiat I’ve got to propose, shipmates, is that we just plank down 
the money amongst^ us to find him one. Now I’ve drawn out a bit 
ot paper here, and headed the list myself, p’raps some one will read 
it out,” and apparently exhausted by his own eloquence. Captain 
Koreton resumed his seat amidst a murmur of applause. 

The paper was speedily taken up by one ot the skippers nearest 
Captain Noreton, who read as follows: 

“This subscription list is for the purpose ot defending Captain 
John Furness from the shameful charge brought against him, and 
all his friends are requested to sign their names to it, and give as much 
as they can spare.” Underneath wmich appeared “Kit Noreton, 
£5.” 

“ And very handsome, too,” said the reader; “ 1 can’t go quite 
as much as that. 1 never had a long command wmere 1 couldn’t 
spend money, like Captain Noreton.” And this allusion to the joke 
ot his supposed command of the “ Nore ” lightship was received 
with a loud guffaw by his companions. “ Still, here goes my con- 
tribution, such as it is, anyway. And now,” continued the speaker, 
“ having written my own name. I’ll just send it round.” 

It w'as about this period that Mr. Pollock made his appearance, 
lie saluted the company generally, and Captain Noreton in particu- 
lar, and at once asked what might be the subject in hand. 

“ 1 am doing wdiatltold you 1 would, my lad,” rejoined Captain 
Noreton gruffly. “ I am getting up that bit of a subscription wdiich 
1 spoke to you about, and they’re not backward,” and here the cap' 
tain jerked his hand comprehensively round the parlor, “ in coming 


STRUCK DOWN. 75 

forward. 1 hope as you’re, so to speak, one of us, you’ll put your 
name to it for a irifle too.” 

“ 1 shall be only to happy too contribute my mite,” rejoined 3Ir. 
Pollock, ‘‘ if I can do so without offense, captain. 1 think I’ll fig- 
ure at the bottom, though, please; you see I’m only a kind of hon- 
orary member, and very gcod it was of you all to make me so.” 

‘‘ Very good, my lad,” replied the captain, approvingly. There 
was a commendable modesty about his 'protege's remark which met 
his approbation. 

The paper passed rapidly from hand to hand, till ? t last it came to 
Dave Skirley. Mr. Pollock looked somewTiat curiously as the pa- 
per came to this rran, chiefly on account of the two or three singu- 
lar remarks he had previously made concerning the murder, and 
also because he thought he saw some disposition on Skirley’s part 
to shirk signing it; but in that he was mistaken, for though pretty 
well the last to attach his signature, Skiiley did so unhesitatingly. 
Finally, Captain Noreton handed the subscription list over to Mr. 
Pollock, and the inspector had the opportunity of running his eye 
leisurely down it, and here the detective was slightly disappointed. 
There was not a signature amongst the lot tliat was at all suggestive 
that ine owner was the writer of the anonymous letters. 

No; whoever Jack Furness’s informant had been, it seemed im- 
possible tliat he could have been an habitue of the skipper’s parlor. 
To begin upon, they were all skeptical that the murdered man even 
knew the Senora. ” They all seem,” thought Mr. Pollock, ” to be 
quite unaware that she ever walked upon the ramparts: the only one 
1 suspect to have any inkling of it is Skirley, from what he said one 
night about ‘ a man may rob another of whaC he values more than 
property.’ I thought it was possible that he had knowledire of the 
rivalry between Mr. Clayford and the prisoner, but it seems not. At 
all events, his handwriting goes far to prove that he w^as not the 
writer of those anonymouus letters.” 

The pros and cons of the murder were discussed with considera- 
ble animation. One thing seemed clear to the assembly, namely, 
that Jack Furness had nothing whatever to do with the death of 
Mr. Clayford, and now that they had put down the necessary funds 
for the defense, that would be proved very shortly. 

“You are very silent to-night, mate,” remarked Captain Nore- 
ton, at length. 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Pollock; ”1 was listening to the conversa- 
tion. As 1 told you, a great crime always has a strange fascination 


76 


STRUCK DOWN. 


J:or me. By the tvay, captain, was Skirley a great friend of the pris- 
oner’s?” 

” Ko,” replied Captain Noreton; “ not particular. What made 
you ask that question?” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t know — something he said the other night,” and the 
inspector glanced round the room to see it Skirley was within ear- 
shot, and then discovered that he was no longer in the room. 

” No, my lad,” continued Captain Noreton, ” Jack Furness and 
Dave Skirley were certainly not to be called chums— t airly triendly, 
nothing more.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

MR. POLLOCK WINS IIIS BET. 

The Golden Galleon was a quaintly built old-fashioned house. 
Vou entered by a low door to what might more properly be called 
a well-matted passage than a hall. On the left was the bar, with 
the bar-parlor behind it. On the light was a room dedicated to the 
use of customers of a rather lower class than the frequenters of the 
skipper’s parlor, but, as old Jolin Black said, ‘‘ he meant to have 
no rift-rad about his place,” and this room, as a rule, was clear 
about ten o’clock. Though they at times sat up a little later in the 
skipper’s parlor, still, it was an early house, and its inmates gener- 
ally in bed by eleven, or thereabouts. Passing the bar-parlor, you 
found the staircase on your left, the door to the kitchen, etc., in front 
of you, while the passage turned at right angles opposite the stair- 
case to the right. Now you had a small room which usually went 
by tlfe name of ” the office,” it being tacitly regarded as the busi- 
ness room of the house. Beyond that you had the much larger room 
known as the ‘‘ skipper's parlor,” while on your right you had sim- 
ply the back wall of the front general room, which was the biggest 
in the house. Upstairs were merely the bedrooms of the inmates 
and guests. As for sitting-rooms, the Golden Galleon didn’t indulge 
in such things, and beyond the small room over the bar, which the 
Senora claimed as her own, there were none. 

Mr. Pollock having got as much out of the conversation as seemed 
likely, and he was tain to confess that it did not amount to much, 
observed that it was getting late, and that he must be oft to bed, 
and accordingly left the room. As he passed the door of the gen- 
eral sitting-room, which he knew by that time in the evening— for 
it was nearer eleven than ten — was usually empty, he was struck by 


STRUCK DOWK. 


77 


the sound of voices in bi^h dispute. It might not be a gentlemanly 
thing to listen to a private conversation, but gentlemen in Mr. Pol- 
lock’s business can not afford to be ultra-pariicularo He stopped 
and listened. There were two voices, one fierce and passionate, evi- 
dently hurling gibe and reproach at her companion; the other a 
man’s, deep, stern and dogged. The inspector recognized them 
both— the clear, scornful invective of the Senora, and the sullen 
gruff tones of Dave Skirley. 

“Coward!” cried Marietta. “If you had a spark of manhood 
in you, you would scorn to take advantage or your miserable dis- 
cover}".” 

“ 1 have missed enough chances in my time. Will you promise 
to do what 1 want? Remember, there’s nobody but me can save 
you. And that’s my price for doing so.” 

“ And do you think 1 should ever do anything but hate you if 1 
did what you want me to?” cried the girl passionately. 

“ 1 will chance all that. Marietta; it’s the one thing 1 long for in 
this world. I’d sacrifice anything in life to obtain it. Cliance has 
put this power into my hands, and by heavens I’ll use it!” 

“ But the chances are, there are others besides you saw me in the 
citadel that night.” 

“ What matter if they did? Nobody but me knows why you 
were there. Nobody holds your secret but myself.” 

There was a pause for some seconds, then the Senora exclaimed 
contemptuously, “ 1 did not know that such as you were allowed to 
crawl upon the face of the earth! Once more” — she continued 
vehemently— “ never! Do your w’orst.” 

“ You’ll think better of it before the time comes.” 

“ Again, 1 tell you — never!” cried Marietta, and nothing but Mr. 
Pollock’s quick ear < nabled him to dis«ppear through the entrance 
before the parlor door was flung open and the Senora swept out. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Pollock, as he walked home to Chubb’s, 
“ I’m blessed if I don’t think she’s in it. She don’t think much of 
that fellow Skirley, and 1 expect she’s reckoned him up about right, 
if she don’t charige her mind, we’re pretty certain to know all about 
it; but then that last is a little weakness women are given to.” 
And shaking his head solemnly, Mr. Pollock entered his hotek 

The inspector was up early the next morning, and as he sluiced 
his face with cold water his brain was busy over the last inlorma* 
tion he had acquired. 

“ It’s a curious case,” he muttered. “ A passionate girl like that 
is quite capable of shooting her lover in her wrath if she thought he 


78 


STRUCK DOWi^. 


was £?oing to Ibrow her over. N'ow, it’s clear she came to meet Mr. 
Claytord, and, instiad ot that, she found her old sweetheart. Jack 
Furness, at the trj’sling-place. He, thanks to his anonymous cor> 
respondence, seems to have been thoroughly well pos*ed as to wliat 
had been going on in his absence; and a quarrel ensued between 
them, no doubt. Now, there’s no knowing when she left the cita- 
del, or how. She might have walked toward the gate, and tiien 
crossing the square have taken a turn upon the ramparts the other 
side. She may have discovered or known there was a laige pa.rty 
going on at mess that night, and it might be late before her lover 
could get away. Now, Sergeant Blane told me it wasn’t very diffi- 
cult for an active man to get out of the citadel at one particular 
angle if he could only escape the vigilance of the sentry. The diffi- 
culty lay in getting back again. It is quite on the cards that feat 
is possible for an active young woman. Now, nobody seems to 
know how the prisoner Furness got out of the citadel either. No- 
body can recollect his passing out; and the sentry who saw the pair 
meet says that Furness walked aWay in the opposite direction from 
the Senora. 

“ Next, there is Mr. Dave Skirley. 1 can’t make out that he was 
even in the citadel that evening; but he somehow has a perfect 
knowledge of all that took place there; and it’s my firm belief could 
give evidence which would clear or convict either Furness or the 
Senora. From what she said last night it strikes me (hat he’s in 
love with her too. Now, if he had turned out to be the writer of 
those anonymous letters 1 should have understood it all. By mak- 
ing Furness and Mr. Clayford meet, he was sure to get rid of one 
of his rivals,' and very likely embroil the Senora with the other. It 
isn’t likely that he contemplated that murder would come of it; but 
then the letters are not the least like his handwriting. No, I’ll first 
up and see Sergeant Blane and go over this contraband outlet of the 
citadel with him.” 

Mr. Pollock was a man ot decision, and as soon as he had fin- 
ished his breakfast made his way up to the citadel and sought out 
his friend the sergeant. That worthy, on hearing his errand, will- 
ingly volunteered to show him the spot, and ihey crossed toward 
the south west angle of the fortress for that purpose. 

” Here it is; you see the natural scirp is not so great here as it is 
on the side overlooking the town. The ditch is a trifle shallower, and 
the counterscarp not quite so steep as in other places. The revet- 
ment is rather broken, and the bank has somewhat given way. 
Ndw, it’s not very difficult to get down into the ditch, nor would 


STRUCK DOWK. 79 

an active man Lave much trouble in getting up that broken part op- 
posite.” 

” And there’s no other way out ol the ditch except that?’^ 

” Well, yes, there is. There’s the sallypoit; but that’s only open 
from gun-fire to retreat. And none but oflicers and soldiers on duty 
are allowed to use it.” 

“Ah!” said Mr. Pollock. “Then nobody could have left the 
citadel that way?” 

“ Certainly not; there’s always a sentry on it, and it would be 
closed altogether till gun-fire the next morning.” 

“ Now, look here, sergeant,” said Mi. Pollock; “ I’m pretty good 
for an old ’un, and tliough 1 don’t look like an athlete, I’m pretty 
wiry, and 1 don’t minding holding you halt-a-crown I go down into 
that ditch and up the other side.” 

“ Nonsense!” replied the sergeant, laughing. “ 1 don’t mean to 
say you could not do it; but you may easy sprain an ankle or break 
a leg over it and what’s the good of running that risk?” 

“ Never mind,” rejoined Mr. Pollock; “ it’s a bet. I’ve a fancy 
to try. Look here,” he continued, with a light laugh, “ if I come 
to any grief you’ll send a stretcher and a couple of men forme, won’t 
you? or came and pass me through the postern gate it 1 can’t get 
up the other side?” 

Another moment, and Mr, Pollock had jumped lightly on the top 
of the parapet and commenced his descent into the ditcn. 

The first part of his task the inspector found easy enough, but 
the latter part presented more difficulty 8till, at the expiration of 
three or four minutes he stood triumphant in the ditch of the cita- 
del. He paused for a little to recover himself, and then, crossing 
over, commenced the ascent the other side, where the revetment was 
somewhat broken. It was a toughish bit of work, and more than 
once Mr. Pollock tvas within an ace of losing his foothold and 
tumbling ignominiously back into the ditch; but he was clean grit> 
and knew well that any loss of presence of mind would mean an 
ugly fall. He stuck gamely to his task, and eventually succeeded 
in gaining the top of the glacis. Then he turned round, took off 
his hat with mock courtesy to his friend the sergeant, shouted out, 
“What about that half-crown?” and proceeded to leisurely walk 
down the slope. 

“ Ah!” muttered Mr. Pollock, as he wended his way toward the 
police-office to ascertain what further information might have been 
received there. “ Very evident that if he only succeeded in evad. 
ing the sentiy, an active young man would have very little difficulty 


80 


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iu gettiii" out ot the fortress that way. But a young woman! Ko! 
1 (iou’t think so. All 1 can say is that, barring she came out of an 
acrobat troupe, 1 think H’s beyond her.” 

Mr. Pollock found the Plymouth police at a deadlock. They 
could make nothing out of the anonymous letters, nor could they 
even venture a guess as to who the girl apparently mixed up in the 
case was. On that point the detective knew he could enlighten 
them if he chose. But the anonymous letters? Yes; it was very 
important to discover the writer of these. 

The chief of the Plymouth police was not a little disturbed, be- 
cause information had arrived b}^ that morning’s post that the — th 
regiment was to embark for active service next week. 

” You see what it is, Mr. Pollock; here is the most critical period 
of the case, and it looks as it we w’ere to lose the best part of our 
witnesses. 1 don’t know what to do. I’ve been up to see Major 
Griffith this morning, and he’s told me that it is perfectly true, that 
unless the^’e aie orders to the contrary, Mr. Leader and all the other 
witnesses will have to embark as a matter of course; but that the 
colonel will be down to-niglit from town, and will have been cer- 
tain to have seen the authorities before he left, and may very likely 
bring orders in his pocicet that the witnesses in the murder case are 
to bn left behind. What do you think, Mr. Pollock?” 

‘‘ Think!” replied the detective, quietly, ” that Government will 
be putting a premium on retail murder iu their anxiety to push the 
wholesale article it the}^ don’t do so! 1 shall telegraph to Scotland 
Yard at once, to say one of the prettiest cases I ever had, and w’hich 
is piecing itself together beautifully, will go all to bits if those wit- 
nesses are sent out ot England for a few weeks. Our chief will no 
doubt communicate with the Home Office, and i think you’ll find 
they will be detained.” 

‘‘ You’ve discovered something more then, Mr. Pollock?” 

” A good deal more,” replied Mr. Pollock, dryly. ” The depth 
and breadth or the ditch of the citadel.” 

‘‘/What on earth has that got to do with it?” inquired the chief 
of the Plymouth police, petulantly. 

‘‘ A good deal, as you will shortly sea,” rejoined Mr. Pollock, as 
he left the office. 


STRUCK DOWIST. 


81 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“don’t forget I WAS FIRST.” 

Major Griffith was right in bis conjecture. When Colonel 
Holmewood arrived to resume the command of his regiment, he 
brought the order for the detention of Lieutenant Leader, Sergeant 
Blane, Private Simmons, etc., in short, all the witnesses connected 
with the murder, in his pocket. IMajor Griffith had, of course, kept 
him well informed of all the particulars of the case, as also had the 
papers. The colonel expressed the most unfeigned sorrow at a loss 
of one of his most promising young officers, and deeply regretted 
that the business upon which he was engaged had prevented his 
getting back to attend the funeral. 

“ Have the police made anytiiing of it as yet, Griffith? 1 most 
sincerely trust they will catch the scoundrel. Thank Heaven! it 
doesn’t appear to have been one of oui'own men. 1 own at first that 
1 was terribly afraid it was.” 

“ No, the local police don’t seem to be able to make much of it, 
but there’s a fellow here from Scotland Yard, who keeps himself 
very much in the background, and he tells me that he thinks he 
shall put his finger on the murderer before long. Further than that 
be declines to speak; he is an uncommon reticent man, and has even 
begged me to keep his presence here a secret; 1 naturally mention it 
to you. He is a good deal about the barracks, but 1 fancy there 
are not halt a dozen men in the citadel who know what his voca- 
tion is. The only other infopiation he has ever condescended to 
give n:e was about those letters. * Dangerous things, sir,’ he said, 

‘ anonymous letters. They generally come home to roost. Their 
writer makes no greater mistake than thinking he will be anony- 
mous long if their recipient sets to work to discover him.’ ” 

When Mr. Pollock went in to lunch at Chubb’s the next day he 
seated himself at the next table to Mr. Crinkle, as he now often did. 

“ Smart this, very,” chuckled this gentleman, putting his hand 
on the local paper, tor since the inurder Mr. Crinkle had taken to 
read the papers. “ Your idea, of course.” 

“ Let me see how they’ve done it.” replied Mr. Pollock, stietch- 
ing out his hand for the paper. “ Very fairly, indeed,” he contin- 
ued. “ 1 think that will produce the information 1 require before 
two or three days are over our heads.” And the inspector glanced 


82 


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with a satisfied smile at a fac simile ot the anonymous letters, with 
an intimation that £25 reward would be given to anj’body who 
could identity the handwiiting. “ There,” he said, *‘ that’s in all 
the local journals, and it there isn’t somebod}" comes forward to 
identify that scribble it can’t have been written in Plymouth, that’s 
all. ” 

“ It’s a clever stroke,” remarked Mr. Criniile, ‘‘ tnd nobody ever 
wrote a decent hand but several people could speak to it. I don’t 
want to be inquisitive, but 1 can keep my mouth shut, and 1 shall 
be just curious to know if you’re called on to pay that £25. 1 don’t 
want to ask more.” 

“Mr. Crinkle, sir, you’re a man to be trusted, no one more so; 
but 1 can’t break Ihrough my rule in conducting a case of this sort, 
w'hich is to tell nobody a bit more than I’m obliged to. Don’t you 
see, sir, if it leaks out that we’ve got at the writer ot those letters, 
it the lellow happens to be mixed uj) in the murder, he’ll bolt be- 
fore we can lay our hands upon him, and Plymouth’s a terrible easy 
port to get away from! Even that advertisement may scare him, 
and the only reason 1 dared put it in was because 1 don’'t think he’s 
the actual criminal, and that, for reasons of his own, he intended to 
produce mischief, but not murder.” 

Mr. Pollock was very soon proved right in his conjecture. Before 
forty-eight hours were over an old man presented himself at the 
police ofBce, clothed in a rusty suit of black, wearing a tall hat, 
and a pair of tortoise shell spectacles on his withered old nose. 

” Now, then, what do you want?” inquired the police-officer, 
who was lounging at the door of the station. 

“ What do 1 want?” replied the old gentleman, testily; ” why, 
I’ve just come to have a word with the head of the establishment.” 

” V^ery good; what’s your business?” 

” Not to answer idle questions put b}'^ people 1 don’t want to 
talk to.” 

The officer bit his lip; he would have liked uncommonly to take 
the testy old gentleman into custody, but he had no pretext for doing 
so; and while such an investigation as they were pursuing was 
going on he knew that his chief would see any one on the chance 
that they had something to tell bearing on the murder. 

” Well, you can’t be called a polite old party to talk to; 1 only 
Lope the chief may find you more agreeable than 1 have.” 

‘‘ 1 didn’t come out to mnke myself agreeable; 1 never do. I’ve 
come to see your guv’nor on a little matter of business, and the 
sooner you show me up, the less of my time you’ll be wasting.” 


STRUCK DOWIsT. 


83 


“ One moment, old gentleman, and the officer disappeared into 
a small room on the right. “ Here, one of you,” he exclaimed, as 
he entered it, to the two or three constables who were seated there, 
” run across to Chubb’s Hotel and tell Mr. Pollock he’s wanted as 
quickly as possible. And now, sir,” he said, as he issued on the 
gate- way again, ” if you will follow me, 1 will show you into the 
chief’s office.” 

The old gentleman was accordingly ushered into the office of the 
chief of the Plymouth police, who was seated at a large table in 
one coiner of the room, while a couple of constables were busy 
writing at a long desk on the other side. Several maps decorated 
the walls, and notices about all manner of things, which, with some 
half dozen Windsor chairs, completed the furniture of the apart- 
ment. 

” What is it?” inquired the chief, briefly. 

” 1 have come about this here,” replied the old gentleman, as he 
drew a newspaper from his pocket. 

“Oh! you think you can identify that handwriting,” said the 
chief. 

” JVlaybe 1 can, and maybe 1 can't. Tou’re coming to that all too 
quiciv, mister.” 

‘‘ VV hat’s your name, and what’s your calling?” inquiied the 
chief, curtly. 

” My name’s Flitch; and 1 keep a small stationer’s shop in the 
Barbican.” 

” Very good, Mr. Flitch; now what have you come here for?” 

” Well, look here, sir; is this all fair and square? Does this ad- 
vertisement mean what it says? That you will give tweniy-five 
pounds to any one who can tell whose handwriting that is?” 

At this juncture Mr. Pollock entered the room, and dropped noise- 
lessly into a chair behind Flitch. 

” Would 1 be likely to get any one into a scrape by telling who it 
is?” continued the old gentleman. 

‘‘ Ah! lhat 1 can’t say,” replied the inspector. 

” Twenty-five pound is a deal of money,” rejoined Mr. Flitch, 
” but 1 don’t like to get the young rascal into trouble.” 

” About that i can’t advise you. 1 can only tell you, that provid- 
ing he was not an accessory to the crime, you will do him no harm.” 

‘‘ And allow me to point out,” suddenly remarked Mr. Pollock, 
blandly, ” that you’ve acknowledged you’ve recognized the hand- 
writing, under wffiich circumstances we shall at once subpoena you, 
and put you in the witness-box when the trial comes on. You will 


84 : 


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then have to answer the questions put to you, or probably be com- 
mitted tor contempt of court.” 

Mr. Pollock had pounced, but this time unsuccessfully. 

“Ah!” replied Mr. Flitch, ”1 am an old man, my sight’s not 
very good, and it’s very likely I’m mistaken.” 

The inspector bit his lip. lie was much vexed to have so corn- 
milled himself before his provincial brethren. 

“As you like, Mr. Flitch; as you said just now, twenty five 
pound is a deal of money, and you may be quite sure that you’re 
not the only person in Plymouth can swear to that handwriting.” 

“ That’s true,” said the old man with a start, “ and 1 might as 
well have the money as another. 1 want it bad enough, goodness 
knows. Well, gentlemen, 1 believe my boy wrote those letters.” 

“ What, your son?” explained Mr, Pollock, not quite prepared for 
such exceeding cynicism. 

“ No, no,” rejoined Mr. Flitch, “ he’s my lad — he’s my ’prentice. 
He sometimes keeps the books, and 1 know his writing well. And 
that is about as like his fist as you can go to it.” 

“ Just show him the original letters,” said Mr. Pollock, and these 
being carefully examined by Mr. Flitch, he expressed no doubt 
about their being in bis boy’s handwriting. 

“ Now, Mr, Flitch, 1 think we’ve done with you tor the present, 
we know where to find you, and will send tor you when we want 
you.” 

The^old gentleman took up his bat, and as be reached the door a 
thought struck him, he came halt way back into the room, and 
said, with some little anxiety in his voice, “ 1 say, mister, you won’t 
forget that 1 was the first, will you, now?” 

“ Certainly not; you can go,” replied the chief of the Plymouth 
police, and satisfied with this assurance, Mr Flitch took his depart- 
ure. 

If there was one knot of men who felt fiercely vindictive against 
the assassin, and thirsted to see him biought to justice, ii was Tom 
Leader and the witnesses left behind under his charge. Leader had 
lost a very dear friend, while the men were inspired by that fine old 
spirit of clanship characteristic of the Briiish soldier, who, grumble 
though he may sometimes at his officers, fiercely resents any attack 
upon therm Then, again, they were all disappointed at not sailing 
lor the war \silh their more fortunate comrades. It meant hard 
knocks and scant rations, they knew well, but every soldier knows 
how mean one feels, kicking one’s heels about a garrison town, 
when the news comes home that their comrades are in the thick of 


STRUCK DOWN. 


85 


the fight. The gallant — th had embarked. Mr. Leader had sadly 
shaken hnnds with his brother officers, and in spite of their assur- 
ances of “ Poor old fellow, j^ou’Jl be after ns by the next mail,'* 
had lefused to be comforted. He had come ashore in the tender, and 
was wending his way s’owly up Union street on his road to the 
citadel, when he was overtaken by Mr. Pollock. 

“ Sorry for you, Mr. Leader,’^ said the inspector, as he touched 
his hat. “ 1 know a gentleman like you don’t like his regiment to 
sail tor service without him, but the detection of crime is a para- 
mount duty to all of us.” 

” Weil, 1 don’t know about that, Mr. Pollock,” replied Tom 
** It’s your profession.” 

“And you,” said Mr. Pollock, somewhat impressively, “have 
got the murderer of your friend to bring to justice.” 

“ It’s what I am staying for,” rejoined Leader, savagely. “ Do 
you suppose that you’ll succeed in discovering him?” 

“ 1 think, Mr. Leader, that I am getting very near it. A few days 
more, and 1 think 1 shall be ble to form a pretty good guess at the 
criminal. I’ll own just now that 1 am puzzled between two. Good- 
morning, sir! — Upon my word,” he muttered to himself, “ I’m 
half inclined to think the girl did it. She would probably know 
where Clayford’s quarters were situated. Now, it’s not likely that 
Furness would know that, still, of course, he might inquire: and 
how either of them got out of the citadel, there’s no e^^^idence to 
show. As for Furness, he would have no difficulty in making his 
way out in the same manner as 1 did the other morning; and as for 
the Senora, if she went out unnoticed before the gate closed, 
she was, of coarse, not in the citadel at the time of the murder. 
Ah! the letters will throw a bit of light upon it. I’ll bet.” 

But there was a surprise in store for Mr. Pollock, of which he lit- 
tle dreamed. He strolled down to the Golden Galleon in the course 
of the afternoon. And upon entering the skipper’s parlor found it 
tenanted solely by Captain Noreton. 

“ Well, my lad,” said that worthy, “have you heard the news? 
Smother me! if ever 1 heard such a go in my life. Why, I’ve 
used this house since she was a child, and except to go back to 
school, who ever heard of the Senora leaving it? Since she’s done 
with schooling, why, she’s never gone away, except for a day’s out- 
ing; and here, her father tells me she’s gone to London. What’s to 
become of us all without her? John Black is a very good man, 
but it takes a woman’s hand at the helm to manage a craft like this. 


86 


STRUCK DOWN. 


It the Senora is away long, mark me! things will go to sixes anil 
sevens, and it will be all up with the Golden Galleon/' 

“ AVhere has the Senora gone to in London?” asked the inspector 
quickly, as soon as Captain Noreton came to the end of his wander- 
ing speech. 

‘‘ I don’t know,” replied the captain. ” Her father don’t know; 
she said she didn’t know herself, but she’d wiite as soon as she was 
settled.” 

” hat’s she gone for?” inquired Mr. Pollock. 

” She told her father she was tired of Plymouth, and wanted a 
change, and he must contrive to do without her tor a little.” 

” If she didn’t do it, she’s evidently mixed up in it somehow, and 
wants to keep out of the way till the trial is over,” muttered Mr. 
Pollock; ” she knows nothing of Loudon, and is tar too striking a 
girl to escape notice; but it may be a troublesome business for all 
that. Any way, 1 must wire her description, etc., to Scotland Yard 
at once;” and with this reflection, Mr. Pollock bustled out of the 
house. 


CHAPTER XVll. 

COMMITTED FOR TRIAL. 

Mr. Pollock lost but little time in following Mr. Flitch to his 
shop in the Barbican; in fact, he would probably have reached it as 
soon as the old gentleman himself, but for one thing. He remained 
behind to exchange a tew words with the chief of the Plymouth 
police; and when became out, Mr. Flitch had disappeared. Con- 
sequently, on arriving at the Barbican, Mr. Pollock had to make in- 
quiries as to where the old gentleman’s shop was situated. Now, 
it was by no means a large and well-known stationer’s; and, there- 
fore, he had to ask his way more than once before he arrived at the 
humble little shop over which Mi. Flitch presided. It could hardly 
be called a stationer’s. Its principal business was evidently the sale 
ot papers of all descriptions. You would certainly have found 
none ot the society journals on his counter. There was a fairish 
stock ot the daily papers, and ail the local. The remainder of his 
wares seemed to consist of a small lot of second-hand novels, and a 
few quires of note-paper, with envelopes to match. 

Mr. Pollock walked briskly into the shop, and seeing the old gen- 
. tleman behind the counter, said, ” Now, Mr. Flitch, we’ll proceed 
to business at once, if you please. Wliere’s this boy of yours?” 

” Well, he’s out just now,” replied the shopkeeper. ” That’s 


STRUCK DOWK. 


87 


the worst of boys, you can’t trust ’em; now, Bob isn’t a very bad 
ooy, but the moment 1 am out he just gets the girl at the chandler’s 
shop opposite to keep an eye on my premises, and hooks it. Touug 
varminti what do you think he had the cheek to tell me last time^ 
that she could manage it perfectly well? she’d only got to ask a penny 
for anything that was asked for. And,” said the old gentleman 
with a sigh, “he’s* about right; that’s the price of most of my 
goods. You see, sir, there ain’t much profit to be got out of 
penn’orths.” 

“ Well, there’s profit lor you to be got out of this business,” said 
Mr. Pollock. “ While we're wailing for him, just let me see some 
of his handwriting.” 

Mr. Flitch speedily produced his books. The inspector, taking 
the anonymous letters from his breast-pocket, carefully compared 
them wuth the writing therein. 

“ Yes, Mr. Flitch,” he observed, at length, “ 1 should say there 
is no doubt that your boy wrote these letters. The curious question 
is, vvhy he wrote ’em. With your permission I’ll sit down and 
wait till he comes in.” 

He hadn’t long to wait A few minutes more, and a red-haired, 
freckled- faced, blue-eyed boy came whistling into the shop. He 
stared with no little astonishment at the stranger, and cast a half- 
apprehensive glance at his master, who called him a “ varmint,” 
and shook bis fist at him. 

“ Now, Bob, my friend, I’ve got a question or two to put to you. 
I’m a detective-officer, come down from London to investigate this 
murder that has taken place- in the citadel. Y'ou’ve read all about 
the murder, of course you have, and you’ve heard all about these 
anonymous letters. Now, why did you write ’em? Stop, don’t 
admit you did write them unless you like, though 1 know perfectly 
well yt)u did.” 

Bob’s face was a study. He had turned almost green from fright. 
There v^as no whistle on his lips now. The idea of falling into the 
hands i)f the police had undefined terrors for him. 

“ Please, sir,” he blubbered out at last, with no thought of de- 
nial,. “ 1 didn’t know there was any harm.” 

“ But what made you do it?” asked Mr. Pollock. 

“ Please, sir, he asked me to do it, and he gave me two bob to 
write down what he told me.” 

“ HeV said Mr. Pollock; “ who was he?” 

“ 1 don’t know, sir, indeed 1 don’t,” said Bob, still sniveling. 


88 


STRUCK DOWK. 


“ He's a sailor chap, who’s been in here now and aj^ain tor papers. 
You’ve seen him, Mr. Flitch, p’raps you can tell who he is?” 

“ D’ye mean that dark swarthy tellow who’s been so keen about 
the murder? 1 don’t mind his buying any papers before that hap- 
pened.” 

“ T hat’s him, Mr. Flitch,” interposed the boy, eagerly ; ” I wrote 
'em for him, and 1 give you my word, sir,” continued Bob, tuining 
to the inspector, “ that’s all 1 know about it.” 

‘* And you?” said Mr. Pollock, turning to the stationer. 

” 1 only knovTs him by sight,” replied Mr. Flitch. “ I’ve no idea 
what his name is — we don’t have a many sailors amongst our cus- 
tomers as a rule, and such as we have, buys their papers and takes 
them away with ’em.” 

‘‘ But you’d know him again if you saw him, 1 suppose?” said 
the inspector, sharply, to Bob. 

‘‘Yes, sir; ITn quite sure 1 should. It isn’t often anybody gives 
me two bob, and 1 ain’t likely to foiget it.” 

Very well, my lad,” replied Mr. Pollock. “ 1 shall want you 
before long; but you’ve no cause to be frightened. No liarm will 
come to you. You’ll only have to answer some half dozen questions, 
that’s all. Good bye, Mr. Flitch, and don’t you be afraid neither. 
Your little aflair will be all right,” aud with that the inspector left 
the shop, 

” Yes,” he mused, as he walked up the hill toward his hotel; 
” written by a sailor, as i thought, ihat is, dictated, wTiich comes 
to the same thing. A cunning beggar, too, and wasn't going to let 
his own handwriting betray him. Weill I think 1 know now who 
dictated those letters. After that little scene 1 overheard be- 
tween him and the Senora, 1 fancy Mr Dave Skirlcy is the 
author of them, Yes, i suppose he is desperately iu love with 
the girl, and thought it he liad brought his two rivals face to face, 
with llie knowledge that they were rivals, something would come 
of it. Something did, though I’m bound to admit that 1 cio'.iT think 
Skirley ever contemplated anything of tliat kind.. Still, he’s got a 
hold over Marietta somehow, and I fancy knows pretty well what 
passed in the citadel that night. Thei girl’s sudden departure for 
London, too! She is evidently in dread of exposure of some sort. 
A woman who commits a great crime is generally more dithcult to 
convict than a man. She never seems to lose her presence of mind. 
She will lie with an case and simplicity that no man can hope to 
emulate. Her powers of dissimulation are often extraordinary. 
No; it’s wonderful the resources a woman at bay will display. 


STRUCK DOWN. 


89 


Vr ell, to-morrow Furness is brought up again before the magistrates, 
and though I hate having to show my hand until my case is coui- 
plele, yet 1 snail have to show pretty well all Tm sure of, or else 
the}^’!! say there’s hardly a case against him.” 

The court was crowded next morning when Captain John Fur^ 
ness was again brought before it, Mr. Bradshaw, the counsel tor 
the crown, said that he had come before the bench that morning to 
ask tor a committal. That the prisoner was in the citadel at the 
time of the murder he had himself admitted, though for what pur- 
pose he had declined to say. He could now enlighten the bench 
upon that point. He went there for the purpose of meeting a young 
lady of perfectly unblemished reputation, and for whose hand he 
had been long a suitor. He went there in consequence of the 
anonymous letters which he (the counsel) had produced in cnurt last 
week. The writer of those anonymous letters had been discovered 
and will be brought before you. Whether Captain Furness was a 
favored suitor, or whether the young lady merely liked him in a 
friendly way, it is not for me to determine; but certaiu it is that, 
while Captain Furness was away upon his last voyage, she entered 
upon a strong flirtation with Lieutenant Clay ford. ” 1 am in a posi- 
tion to prove, gentlemen, that, expecting to meet Mr. Clayford at 
the ramparts that evening, she went there; but instead of encount- 
ering the deceased she met the piisoner. Angry words apparently 
passed between them, and they parted; she walking towa» il the gate 
of the citadel, and the prisoner continued his walk round the ram. 
parls. Now it is a curious point that the police have, so far, utterly 
failed to ascertain how Captain Furness, or the lady in question, 
left the citadel. They were seen there together only iust before the 
gates were closed, and after that time there could be little doubt 
that the soldiers on the guard would have been able to speak to 
them. People left in the citadel after that time passed through the 
wicket, the small door in the gate, which is kept locked, and wdiich 
either the corporal or the sergeant of the guard has to come and un- 
lock to let people out. Now i must ask you, iu the interests of 
justice, to let me withhold the name of this lady tor the present. 
We have letters of hers to Lieutenant Clayford. We have plenty 
of people to identif}^ the handwriting, and tiiere can, unfortunately 
for herself, be no doubt of her identity— ” 

A spasm passed over the prisoner’s face at this announcement, and 
his lips quivered, bui he mastered himself by a violent effort, and 
in another moment had regained the easy composure which he had 
maintained ali along. 


90 


STRUCK DOWN. 


“Unfortunate!” exclaimed Mr. Eldon. “In what sense do you 
use that word, Mr. ?” 

“ 1 merely mean that it must be excessively unpleasant for any 
lady to be mixed tip in a case of this description, to have to go 
tbrough the ordeal of the witness-box, and so on.” 

“ Ah! true, quite so,” remarked Mr. Eldon. 

Once more the prisoner's mouth twitched, and it was evident that 
for the first time since the proceedings commenced he was strongly 
moved. 

“ We are able to show conclusively that, although Mr. Leader 
was quite unaware of it, there were cartridges in bis servant’s 
kitchen wdiich fitted the pistol. Rivals for the favor of the young 
lady before mentioned, there would naturally be bitter blood between 
the two men, further fomented by some malicious person or persons 
by means of these aironymous letters — 1 say persons, advisedly, be- 
cause there were evidently two people concerned in their composi- 
tion, one of whom I am about to produce in court. Our theory is 
this— that the prisoner, after parting with the lady in question, in 
his passion determined to confront Mr. Olayford. lie doubtless 
made some inquiries as to where that gentleman’s quarters were; in 
fact, we are able to produce a man who will testify to his having 
done so, some little time before the murder was committed. 
Whether this man was imperfectly acquainted with the officers* 
quarters, or whether the pri!^o^er misunderstood him, we can’i say, 
but our theory is that he got into Mr. Leader’s quarters by mistake, 
that he there discovered the cartridges and the pistol, that his wrath 
intensified by nursing. When a man broods over his wrongs, gen- 
tlemviii, that is very commonly the case. Now how did he get into 
Mr. Leader’s quarters? 1 am instructed that liie door of an officer’s 
quarters is usually kept locked, and though to force such locks as they 
are would be easy, it most certainly was not done in this case; but 
nothing would be easier than to gain access to the kitchen by the 
door, if it was left open, or tailing that, by the wdndow, wbich 
would be probably left unfastened. It is customary for the servants 
to hang the pass-key of their master’s chambers on a nail over the 
mantel piece. This would naturally attract his attention, and as the 
cartridges were kept in an unlocked drawer, and at that time very 
possibly an open drawer, they would also attract his notice. Going 
upstairs he would let himself into Mr. Leader’s rooms, and a few 
scattered letters such as are commonly lying about any man’s table, 
would show him at once that he was not in the quarters of the man 
he sought. Our theory then is, gentlemen, that seeing the pistol he 


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91 


took it from its case, and for the first time murderous thoughts 
entered into his head, lie went down stairs, loaded it, and com- 
menced a fresh search for Lieutenant Clayford’s rooms. Now 1 am 
told by those who have inquired into the thing, that the latch-locks 
of the doors of that range of buildings are all very much ot the 
same pattern, and that the same key will open two doors out of 
three. At all events, which is quite sufficient for our purpose, 1 
can prove to you that the latch-key of Mr. Leader’s rooms would 
open these of Mr. Claylord. Our theory then, is, that taking Mr. 
Leader’s latch-key and Mr. Leader's pistol, the prisoner somehow 
made his way to the deceased officer’s quarters, that, there he was 
discovered by Mr. Clay ford, high words probably passed between 
them, and the result was the terrible result we are acquainted with.” 

” Call Robert Jubber.” 

Bob upon being placed in the witness-box exhibited every sign ot 
uneasiness. Asked whether he wrote those letters? admitted at once 
that he did, with the rider that he meant no harm. \Yhat made 
him write them? Explained he had been paid to write them by a 
man he didn’t know, who told him what to put down. Should 
know the man again anywhere, but did not know his name; he was 
a very dark-faced sailor, and that was all he knew about him. Had 
lie seen him before? Yes, several times. But not since? !No, not 
since. The letters were written at different times. 

Mr. Crinkle testified to the cartridges having been bought at Ids 
shop. Simmons acknowledged to their purchase, explained what 
they had been purchased for, and further, that he kept them in the 
kitchen. That his master had no knowledge that the pistol had ever 
been fired. That he had been afraid to confess this before, for fear 
of getting himself into trouble. 

” This is all the evidence we consider it expedient to produce at 
present,” said Mr. Bradshaw. ” The further evidence which we 
expect to be able to produce is as yet not quite completed. 1 venture 
to press for a committal on the capital charge ot murder. At the 
trial we have little doubt of bringing both the young lady and the 
man who dictated those anonymous letters before the court, but to 
perfect these links in the chain of evidence requires some little time,” 
and then the counsel for the crown resumed his seat. 

Mr. Faker on behalf of the prisoner rather derided the evidence. 
He said there were no grounds whatever for the committal of his 
client on this charge. That the theory for the prosecution was ex- 
cessively ingenious, but that it was mere theory, utterly unsupported 
by evidence, and he felt quite certain that the bench would release a 


92 


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man of his client’s iindoubtealy respectable position on bail, even 
if they didn’t pooh-pooh the charge altofretiier. 

But the bcncli thouijjht otherwise, and after a short consultation 
amongst themselves, finally committed John Furness to take his 
trial for “ willful murder.” 


CHAPTER XVlll. 

THE FLIGHT OF THE SENORA. 

"When Jack Furness found himself in the cell to which he had 
been committed he paced the room anxiously. His face was beain- 
nin<i: to bear the aspect of a man who is being hunted down. 

Tes,” he said to himself, ‘‘ the toils grow closer and closer. 1 am 
meshed past all hope of escape. Every day they seem to discover 
more evidence against me and Maiieita! 1 have striven hard to save 
her name, to prevent her being mixed up in this terrible business, 
but all to no purpose. They have got some of her letters to the 
dead man in their possession, and naturally had very little trouble 
in discovering the writer. They know she was in the citadel that 
evening. They don’t know all yet. 1 wonder whether they ever 
will? Well, if they put Marietta in the witness-box and compel 
her to tell her story, it is possible that may unchain my lips, that 
in open court i may be able to tell the story of that horiible night. 
1 care very little how it goes with me. Marietta is lost to me, we 
could never come together again now — that murdered man would 
always stand between us. 1 wish to heavens 1 could send a note to 
Mtirietta. And 5 'et, perhaps, better not. 1 know her passionate 
nature so well, and of what madness she could be capable in her 
anger. No; for the present, 1 will keep my mouth still closed and 
see vvbat comes of it. 1 have battled hard for my life many a lime 
ere this; but ah! my God! it wasn't like this— 1 fought with man or 
the elements with unstained name; but to stand a felon in the dock; 
to think of the crowded court and hundreds of eyes all glaring at 
the wild beast who murderously slew his fellow! Ah! the nights 
are terribly long I wonder whether so wrecked a life as mine has 
ever been? Gone! name, character, sweetheart, everything, in one 
wild evening,” and with that the prisoner threw himself on his bed 
and moodily buried his face in his hands. 

Mr. Pollock, in spite of the way in which his case was progressing, 
w^as getting very uneomfortable on one point. He felt pretty cer- 
tain that bkirley was the dictator of those anonymous letters. 


STRUCK DOWK. 


9 ^ 


He could lay his hand upon him whenever he liked, and though 
Mr. Dave Skirley was quite unaware of the attention extended to 
him, he was under the strict surveillance of the Plymouth police, 
who held a warrant for his apprehension, all duly signed and sealed. 
But what disturbed Mr. Po'lock was that he could hear nothing con- 
cerning Marietta from London. It was in vain that he had wired 
to Scotland Yard. The answer was that they had not succeeded yet 
in tr cing the young lady. 

Now, this y/as a tremendous flaw in Mi. Pollock’s case, lie was 
by no means clear that hers was not the hand that had fired the 
pistol. Not only from what he bad seen, but also from what he 
had heard, he was quite aware of the hot, wild Spanish blood that 
coursed through her veins. He recollected the advice of his friend 
Captain Noreton, who liad said to him: “Look here, my man; 
you're new to the house, and I’ll just give you one hint about the 
shoals and quicksands,” and then lowering his voice to a mysteri- 
ous whisper the captain added: “if so be you find the Senora in 
her tantrums, crowd on all sail till you pass the bar, and when you 
reach the parlor lay by and s ick to your moorings.” 

It was awkivard. He didn’t want to leave Plymoulh at the present 
moment; but it could not be helped. It would never do to let the 
Senora slip through his fingers. He must go up to London and look 
after her himself. It was all very weli to send up a description; 
but there were scores of handsome Spanish-looking women about 
town. Now, he knew her thoroughly by sight, while as for his 
London confreres they were necessarily working very much in the 
dark. He ascertained that no news had been heard of Marietta 
since her departure, a fact about which there was no secret at the 
Golden Galleon, for old John Black was greatly put out at not hav- 
ing had a line from bis daugliter. “ 1 ouglitn’l to have let her go,” 
he Said to bis cronies. “ XYhat’s a girl like that to know about the 
snnres and wickedness of London? 1 ought to have run up with 
her and seen the wtnch comfortabl}^ settled, though what she want- 
ed to go for beats me. She never wished to see London before, and 
•what’s put it into her bead now 1 can't think.” 

Convinced that her father knew no more about Marietta’s w^here- 
abouts than any one else, Mr. Pollock wasted no further time, but 
simply took the first train to town. Arrived there, he waited quietly 
till the bustle of unloading the train was over and the passengers 
had taken their departure, then he quickly gathered round him two 
01 three of the porters, told them accurately the train by which the 
Senora had arrived two days before, gave a vivid description of hei 


94 


STKUCK DOWN. 


person, and said there was a matter of £5 to any man who could 
recollect the number ot the cab into which he had placed her. The 
porters listened attentively, and then one of them said: “Ah! we 
had a gentleman here making inquiries about that young lady be- 
fore; and we’ve talked it well over Among ourselves, and w'c’ve 
come to the conclusion that Logan w’as the man who ])ut that there 
lady into the cab, but he don’t know the number, and he can’t rec- 
ollect where he told the man to drive to. You see, sir, we give the 
cabmen so many addresses in the course of the day that they all get 
jumbled up like.” 

“And 1 suppose the gentleman w'ho came here before about it 
described her luggage to you?” 

“ Oh, yes!” replied the porter, glibly. “ A large black leather 
box studded with brass nails, a black leather bonnet-box, and black 
leather traveling-bag.” 

“ Thank you,” said Mr. Pollock, “lam very much afraid that 
£5 will be lost to Logan all through his w^ant of memory. How- 
ever, there it is; tor anybody, remember, who can bring me the 
number of the cab or the address to which that cab was driven, 
providing, of course, it turns out to be the party I’m in search ot.” 

Mr. Pollock now drove as quickly as he could from Paddington 
to Scotland Yard. Here, as he expected, there was no new^s of the 
missing Senora. They bad take all the ordinary steps, but so far 
wifhout success. 

“ There seem to me,” said one of Mr. Bollock’s comrades when 
he saw him, “ to be only twm waysot getting hold ot this girl. Hid 
you see the porter who took her things?” 

“No; they told me he knew nothing, so 1 didn’t think it worth 
w’hile.” 

“ ’Well, he’s about as melon- headed as they make ’em, and there’s 
nothing to be got out of him. You’ll either have to get it out ot 
the cabman or else to advertise in the ' Times ’ tor a missing young 
lady, with a reward to any one who will restore her to her friends. 
By the way, how are you off tor funds? vVe thought that £25 for 
identifying the handwriting rather stiff.” 

“ Ah!” replied Mr. Pollock, “ Pve got lots of money at my dis- 
posal. The regiment subscribed a very handsome sum to be spent 
in the investigation of the murder; and Mr. Clayford’s brother not 
only wrote me a check for £50 for the same purpose, but told me J 
could have more it 1 wanted it.” 

“ It w^as judicious ihe Government has offered a reward, and his 
friends very properly voted their money for secret service. I’here 


STRUCK DOWiq-. 


95 


are a good many criminals slip through our hands because the funds 
at our disposal prove insufficient. Only lei the bait be tempting 
enough, and it’s astonishing how it sharpens men’s faculties.” 

“ Quite riglitl” said Mr. Pollock, “and fortunately in this case 
I am in a position to bid high.” 

“ I suppose this girl is very essential to your case?” observed his 
companion. 

“ !Slie just is,” said Mr. Pollock. “ She is a most important wit- 
ness, and hang me if I know what to think about it, Attei this sud- 
den bolt of hers 1 wouldn’t quite swear that she isn’t the principal. 
1 certainly did think i’d got the right man; but the behavior of this 
girl puzzles me. At all events, find her 1 must.” 

]Mo information being appaiently to be extracted from the railway 
porters, Mi. Pollock was reduced, as his comiade had said, to re- 
searches among the cabmen and advertising. Now, advertising had 
this objection, that the Senora might see the advertisement quite as 
soon as her landlady and immediately change her abode. “ No,” 
thought Mr. Pollock, “ 1 will be^jin with the cabmen.’' 

Now, the cabmen have their haunts as well as other people. There 
are certain public-houses that they frequent, and in which great 
deference is paid to this class of customers. They generally have a 
room set apart for them, which is looked upon as almost a sort of 
club-room. In fact, if you be no cabman, you have no right in this 
room. It is as strictly preserved for their class as the “ skipper’s 
parlor ” at the Golden Galleon was for master mariners. With all 
these places Pollock was perfectly familiar. He had been into them 
disguised; he had been into them in his own character as Inspector 
Pollock of the police, and m his own character he was always 
especially welcome. Mr. Pollock could adapt Himself to any com- 
pany. He was full of good stories, which he told w^ell; he could 
sing a good song if occasion required; and when he made these 
visits it was, as in the present instance, to get information which 
put money in the pock?t ol; the man able to supply it, and compro- 
mised nobody. Mr. Pollock accordingly made his round of these 
houses as quickly as he could. A.t each ifiace he told his errand 
frankly, and finally affixed a paper over the mantel piece, on which 
was written out a description of the Senora, her baggage, the date of 
her arrival at Paddington, and the time of the train by which she 
came, with an intimation that there was £3 for any cabman sup- 
plying the lady’s address. 

The inspector had not to wait long; halt a score of cabmen, 
hungiy for that £5, were speedily in communication with him. 


96 


STRUCK T)0\V>s^. 


Some ot those applicants were evidently clini^ing to the most shad- 
owy hope that their fares might tuin out to be the right person. 
Mr. Pollock journeyed vainly to various parts of the metropolis; 
was flouted by daik, angry women, and interviewed stout Jewesses 
corresponding by no means to the description. In their anxiet}^ to 
grasj) such a windfall there was hardly a cabman whe had driven 
a dark lady from Paddington that da}^ who did not think it worth 
having a irv for. and three da vs' hard work found Mr. Pollock 
far from being on the track of the Senora as ever. 

“ This won’t do,” said the inspector one morning; ” don’t look 
as it 1 was going to get it out of the cabmen; either he was rrither a 
beery driver, who took no notice of anything, or, on the other hand, 
he was a quiet, steady, hard-working married man, who never goes 
near these night cribs. 1 don’t like to advertise, gtop! 1 have it. 
It’s an off-chance, certainly; but it’s rather queer for a man ot my 
experience not to have thought of it before. 1 never saw this man 
Logan, the porter at the Paddington station who they believe pu^ 
the b’enora and her luggage into a cab. It’s true my colleagues in 
the Yard could make nothing out of him; but then J know so much 
more about the case than they do. l\v Jove! I’ll go down to the 
Great \Yestein Station and see that fellow at once.” 

Another five minutes saw Mr. Pollock bowling aw^ay to Padding- 
ton best pace, and no sooner had he arrived there than he at once 
asked to see the superintendent ot the station, told him who lie vras 
and his present errand. ‘‘Certainly; Logan sliall be sent for at 
once.” And of course the siqierintendent only tiusted Mr. Pollock 
would get the information he required from him. 

A few minutes, and Jerry Logan appeared. A quiet, steady man, 
who iiad grown gray in the service ot the company. 

‘‘ Now, Logan, 1 just want to ask you a few questions, and 1 am 
snie you can answer them, if you’ll only just take the trouble to rec- 
oiled.” 

“dust what the gentleman said the other day, your honor; and 
didn’t v\e both hammer at it for a quaiter of an hour, and make 
iiolliing ot It?” 

“ 1 lK‘y tell me you perfectly recollect getting the luggage of a 
dark, liamlsome young lady, who arrived here by the through train 
from Plymouth on Wiclncsday evening.” 

“ Recollect her, is it? 1 ma}^ be gettin’ on in years, hut Pm 
not that ould 1 don’t know a raal clipper when 1 see one. We 
navcn’i had as good-looi^ing a one as that through the station this 
season.’' 


STEUCK DOWN-. 


97 


Mr. Pollock was not a little posed. His confrh'es had pronounced 
this man an addle-headed old Irishman. Mr. Pollock had already 
arrived at the conclusion that though somewhat voluble and difficult 
to hold to the point, the man was as shrewd as any of his countr}’’- 
men. 

Well, >011 put this lady’s luggage into a cab. Did you see the 
number of it?” 

” That's just what the gintleman who was here before asked me. 
Well, now, I put it to your honor, was i( likely, while a man could 
look at the lad 3 ^ he’d bother himself looking after the cab?” 

‘‘ Well, but 1 suppose she told you where the man was to drive 
her to?” 

“Not she. She only told me to tell him to drive on toward Hyde 
Park.” 

” And that’s all you can tell me?” observed Mr. Pollock, with in- 
finite disappointment. ” 1 suppose you know, Logan, that there’s a 
five-pound note for any one who can help me to this lady’s ad- 
dress? However, it doesn’t seem as if you would earn it.” 

” Heaven knows, your honor, I’d earn it quick enough if 1 
could. It would be new boots for the chiUlthren at home, and a score 
more little things that the missus do be always lazing me about, 
and that we can’t find the money for.” 

Suddenly a thought struck Pollock. 

” What did this lady give you?” he said. 

” Well, she gave me a shilling; and I’d have taken particular 
note of her had it been only for that; it’s tizzies and lourpenny bits 
we get mostly from ladies traveling alone.” 

” No,” mused Mr. Pollock; ” he has apparently not been paid 
to keep the Senora’s secret, and 1 am afraid there is nothing to be 
got out of him.” And the inspector was bout to take his departure, 
when Logan suddenly said to him. in a half-deprecating manner: 

‘‘ 1 wonder wdiether this would be anny good (oyour honor?” And 
as he spoke he handed the inspector an envelope bearing the ad- 
dress 

MBS, FAIRLEIGFI, 

73 Oxford and Cambridge Terrace. 

” Did you see the lady drop this?” inquired Mr. Pollock, sharply. 

JNo, sir, 1 found it on the ground just alter her cab had dthriven 
off, and thrust it into my throusers pocket. Shure 1 can’t tell you 
why. 1 had chnie forgot all about it till this morning.” 

” Well, I’ll take this, Logan,” said the inspector, after a mo- 
ment’s consideration- ” and if anything comes of it, you shall have 
4 


98 


STRUCK DO^YN, 


tlie reward all rigid.” And so saying, Mr. Pollock walked sharply 
oft in searcli of a cab. 

“It’s all in my way, and worth trying, anyhow,” he said to 
himself, as he stepped into it. If she did dr>p it it is probably 
the address of the house at which she v/as going to stay.” 

A very lew minutes, and Pollock arrived at the house he sought. 
A very few questions convinced him that he had found the lost 
sheep, and, what is more, that she was at home. 

” Now, just show me up at once, my dear,” said the inspector, 
slipping half a crown into the girl’s hand wdio had answered the 
door. 

” \^'llat name am 1 to say, sir?” said the servant. 

” Mr. Pollock,” rejoined the detective, and immediately followed 
the girl so closely that it was quite evident he meant to be in the 
room as soon as his name. 

” Mr. Pollock!” exclaimed the Senora, and her cheeks flushed, 
and a rather dangerous sparkle came into her eyes. ” I am at a 
loss to understand the meaning of tliis intrusion.” 

‘‘My dear young lady,” rejoined the inspector, ”1 have come 
to persuade you to return with me to Plymouth by the next train. 
Your father is very unhappy at your absence.” 

” By what right do you dare to interfere with my movements?” 
interposed Maiietta, hotly. 

” Well, Miss Black, it’s an unpleasant duty, but 1 suppose there’s 
no use fencing about the bush. 1 am Inspector Pollock, of the de- 
tective police, and I must take you back to Plymouth for complicity 
in lUe citadel murder.” 


CHAPTER XIX 

THE TRIAL. 

The court-house at Exeter w^as crowded when Mr. .Tustice Shin- 
gles took his seat on the bench to preside over the trial of the 
Crown 'G. John Furness for willful murder. All the habitues of I he 
skipper’s parlor,” lieaded by Captain Noreton, liad come up from 
Plymouth to see, in the w'ords of that veteran, ” that their old com- 
rade had fair pla3%” though what Ihal distinguished mariner meant 
by (liese indefinite words it w^oiild be difficult to say. There were 
rumors of all sorts concerning tlic trial. It was known at llie Gold- 
en Galleon that the Senora bad returned as suddenly as she liad 
left. But she had appeni*ed no more in the bar, and kept strictly to 
her own rooms. They had also ascertained, much to their indigna- 


STRUCK DOWK. 


99 


tion, that the house was under the close surveillance of the police— 
that night and day watch and ward was kept over the Golden Gal- 
leon. 

]\lr. Pollock, on his return journey with the Senora, had kindly 
but lirrnly told her that he had a warrant for her arrest in his packet, 
that he had no intention of using it unless compelled, but unless she 
remained quiet at the Golden Galleon till the trial, he should be com- 
pelled to do so. Any attempt to escape from Plymouth would lead 
to her beimr immediately taken into custoily. The girl had shed 
scalding tears of agony when it was broken to her that she would 
have to give evidence on the trial, and she was now staying in Exe- 
ter comfortably lodged in the castle with her father, and though 
not nominally, yet virtually, in charge of the police. 

Dave Skirley had for some time past been aware that his foot- 
steps were persistently dogged. He was not a nervous man, but 
the idea that you are being tracked, go where you may, gradually 
begins to wear the mind of any man who may be exposed to it- 
He may be innocent of all offending against his fellow-creatures, 
but, like the rabbit, when he becomes aw^are that the relentless wea- 
sel is on his trail, he becomes apprehensive of he knows not what. 
Skirley was in this position; he could not always make out his 
follower — was usually somewhat unceitain about him. Sometimes 
he took the form of one man, sometimes of another ; but even when 
he could not see him, he nevertheless felt quite certain that there 
were a keen pair of eyes watching his every movement, and Dave 
Skirley got excessively uncomfortable under the ordeal. Although 
he mixed his rum-and- water slifier and stifter, still that didu t seem 
to meet the case. Finally, Mr. Pollock, whose incognito was by 
this time prelty well a thing of the past, served him with a subpoena 
to attend the trial at Exeter. 

Mr. Skirley, turning the wliole thing over in his mind, came to 
the conclusion that Ih^^y had discovered he was the author of the 
anonymous letters. Well, there was no great harm in that, he had 
only done his best to serve a comrade; it might not, perhaps, be 
just the best way to do it, but it was the w^ay that seemed best to 
him at the time. So Mr. Skirley came meekly to Exeter with his 
brethren, still conscious that the police were watching him with un- 
tiring eyes. 

The grand jury have returned a true bill; and on a gray Novem- 
ber morning John Furness, standing in the felon’s dock, pleads 

Not Guilty ” to the charge of the willful murder of Charles Cecil 
Clayford, in the citadel of Plymouth, on the evening of July 25, 


100 


STRUCK DOWK. 


18—. The counsel tor Ihe cro(vii rises, ami in his openinoj speech 
traverses all the old ground with which we are already acquainted. 
Once more he points out the rivalry between the two men; tliat the 
lady, the object of their mutual admiration, met her old lover when 
expecting to meet her new adorer; that high words passed between 
them, and that, to use a homely phrase, she apparently 0outed the 
prisoner. 

“ Gentlemen, if woman can confer great happiness upon us,” 
continued the learned counsel, “ there is no doubt but that she has 
also been the cause of incalculable w’oe to our sex besides. Thou- 
sands of men died and a bitter war was prosecuted because, when 
Mme. la Pompadour sent a gracious message to Frederick the Great, 
he cynically replied that ‘ he did not know her.’ And the bitterest 
quarreU among men have been fought in their rivalry fora woman’s 
smile. W'e shall show you by unimpeachable circumstantial evi- 
dence that the prisoner, after parting with the lady before men- 
tioned, made his way toward the officers’ quarters. We shall pro- 
duce to you a witness from whom he inquired his way to Mr. 
Clay ford’s rooms. From this man’s directions he no doubt dis- 
covered them, and having obtained entrance — and how he did that 
we shall also explain to you — he then awaited the arrival of his un- 
fortunate victim. What passed between them is known to no one 
but the prisoner; whether it was a violent quarrel, or whether de- 
liberate, cold-blooded murder, we can not say; but I deeply regret 
that the facts 1 shall lay before you seem to point to the latter. 
We have, gentlemen, a considerable mass of evidence to produce net 
forthcoming at the preliminar 3 examination. We shall bring 
before you the author of the anonymous letters, and you will hear 
from his own lips what induced him to write them; we shall fur- 
ther place in the witness box, painful thouirh il must be lor lier, 
the young lady, the unfortunate cause of this melancholy disaster. 
And shall further, 1 think, be able to demonstrate to your satisfac- 
tion the way in which the prisoner most probably left the citadel. ’ 

The prisoner had listened quite quietly, and with his usual com- 
posure, to the opening speech of the counsel for the crown, until he 
came to pledging himself to place the Senora in the witness-box. 
Then he was evidently perturbed. He irembled slightly, and there 
was a nervous twitching in his mouth, which the practiced legal 
gladiator emplo}^ed against him noted instantly. 

“ Tlie case will hinge on the evidence of that girl,” he whispered 
to the solicitor behind him, “ and 1 tancy the witness Skirley will 
contribute important evidence when properly lui’ned out.” 


STRUCK DOWN. 


101 


“ Gentlemen/' continued the counsel for the crown, “ 1 must now 
inform you that it is quite easy for an active man, at one point of the 
ramparts, to not only descend inlo the ditch, but to ascend the other 
side, and so find himself without the citadel. Sergeant Blane will 
tell you that soldiers have not only been known to break out of bar- 
racks that way, but have also been discovered in the very act of le- 
turning. Fuither, 1 shall put a police-officer in the box, who, in 
order to test the feasibility of that mode of egress, essayed it him- 
self with complete success. I won’t detain you longer, but will 
now proceed to call my witnesses in categorical order.” 

d'he first man to enter the witness-box was Private Jennings, the 
dead man's servant. He briefly described how, having occasion to 
go into his master’s rooms at a late hour, to finish some packing for 
him, he found Mr. Clayford lying dead noon the floor, the revolver, 
from wliich two barrels had been discharged, on the floor near him. 

The medical evidence came next, which went to show that it wae 
almost impossible the wounds could have been self-inflicted; most 
especially, that which was, in all probability, the second shot. Mr. 
Leader then testified to the ownership of the pistol, and how the 
'tveapon was usually kept hanging up in its case in his room. He 
was a very intimate friend of the deceased’s; and though he cer- 
tainly had been somewhat absent that night at dinner, he had no 
reason to suppose that he was in difficulties of any nature, or that 
there was any cause for his being depressed in spirits; in fact, he 
knew no cause that could have led him to the terrible step of sui- 
cide. The next witness was Simmons, who confessed to the pui- 
clnise of the cartridges; how that he was in the habit of practicing 
with the pistol in the ditch of the citadel, and how he undoubtedly 
had still about a score of cartridges in the drawer of the kitchen on 
the night of the murder. AVas quite certain that the revolver was 
not loaded. It would be very easy to get into the kitchen. There 
was only one key to the back-door, which, as he and another servant 
had to use in common, was usually hung on a nail outside the door. 
Ibis admission of house-closing excited no little merriment in court. 
The idea of locking the door, and hanging the key alongside of it, 
being a singular way of protecting property. ‘What did he usually 
do with his master’s pass-key? It hung on a nail over the kitchen 
fire-place. 

‘‘ In short, gentlemen, you see Mr. Leader’s kitchen and rooms 
were simply open to anybody wlio took the trouble to use the keys.” 

Then came the evidence of the sentry wdio had heard the two 
shots fired, and Sergeant Blane; of the sentries on the gale, both 


102 


STRUCK DOWK. 


before and alter the last post. The sentry at the back of the 
officers’ quarters testified to seeing the prisoner in earnest conveisa- 
tion with a young lady. As far as he could judire, high w^'rds 
passed between them, and they separated abruptly. Sergeant Blanc, 
in the course of his evidence, bore witness to the ease with which an 
active man could escape from the ciliidel, adding that tliey had had 
several instances amongst the soldiers in his own regiment. 

To recapitulate all this evidence at full length would onl}^ weary 
the reader, as it has all been before him at the preliminary examina- 
tion. The same may be said of Marietta Black’s letters, which 
showed conclusively that the deceased was h^r lover, and the last of 
which was the only one which bore promiuentl 3 ^ on the case — 
namely, the letter in which she asked him to meet her on the ram- 
parts the very evening he came by his death. 

That the prisoner was much moved by the reading of these let- 
ters, was manifest to every one in court. His hands iiripped the 
front of tlie dock hard; the veins stood out on his forehead; and 
the compressed lips were a sure sign of the tumult v/;thin. 

“ 1 propose,” said the counsel, ” to take all the letters now. The 
writer of those I have just read 1 shall bring before you a little 
later. 1 will now read the anonymous letters, and then produce 
their writer, and also the author of them; for, gentlemen, there 
were tw^o persons concerned in these letters.” 

The anonymous correspondence having been read, Bob Jubher 
W’as placed in the witness-box, and briefly told the story, with which 
we are already acquainted. He adhered positively to his original 
statement, that thougu he didn’t know his name, he should know 
the man who paid him to write them, it he saw him. As he con- 
cluded, the counsel called upon him to look round to his left, and 
see it he recognized any one amongst the men standing near him. 
Bob did as he was bidden, and without the slightest hesitation 
picked out Dave Skirley. 

Somewdiat sullenly, Mr. Skirley succeeded Bob in the witness- 
box, and admitted tbe authorship of the anonymous letters. Closely 
examined, he said that the deceased was a sweetheart of Marietta 
Black’s; that be bad discovered it while Furness was on his last 
voyage, and had hastened to acquaint the prisoner with that discov- 
ery on his return. 

” How did he come by that knowledge?” 

” Because 1 had a strong interest in watching Marietta Black’s 
movements/’ 


STRUCK DOWK. 


103 

''Indeed! Allow me to ask of what nature that interest con- 
sisted?” 

“ Consisted!” exclaimed Skirley, with a sudden hurst ot passion, 
that electrified the court. “1 lored her too — as passionately, as 
madly as either of them. 1 was content to take my chance against 
Furness; but when an interloper like the dead man appeared upon 
the scene, it was time to be up and doing. What business had he 
to come amongst us for his sweetheart? Y/e are not of his class, 
and his soft-spoken tongue was more likely to please a girl’s fancy 
than the wooing of a rough sailor. Furness stood before me in 
Marietta’s good graces. Had 1 stood before him, 1 would never 
have written those letters. 1 would have taken the quarrel into my 
own hands.” 

” 1 don’t think 1 need ask you any further questions,” said the 
crown counsel. And, indeed, Skirley was already regretting his 
burst of passion, and likely to prove a sullen intractable witness 
henceforth. 

And now came the great sensation ot the day, the call ot ” Mari- 
etta Black.” The Senora, leaning on her father’s arm, came for- 
ward, and, closely veiled, took her place in the witness-box. The 
veil, of course, she had. speedily to raise, for the puipose of taking 
the oath; and a slight buzz of admiration ran round the court at the 
sight of her handsome face and graceful figure. 

After the first few preliminary questions, the counsel produced 
her letters, and asked her whether she admitted being the writer of 
them. Marietta bowed her head in assent. 

” In accordance with your last letter, 1 presume, Miss Black, you 
went into the citadel to meet Mr. Claytord?” 

‘‘ Yes,” replied the witness in a low tone, 

‘‘ Did you see him at all, that evening?” 

•‘No!’' 

” However, it you didn’t meet Mr. Clayford, you met the prisoner 
upon the ramparts?” 

“Yes.” 

” Now please to tell us what passed between you.” 

The witness hesitated for a few moments, and then replied: ” Some 
bitter words. Captain Furness was angry about my acquaintance 
with Mr. Claytord. 1 told him that what 1 did, or whom I chose 
to know, was no affair of his; that I was neither going to be dictat- 
ed to, nor spied upon, by any man on earth— in short, we quarreled 
and separated.” 

'■ Miss Black,” said the counsel, '' 1 don’t want to pain you un- 


104 


STRUCK DOW]Sr. 


ueces'^arily, but remember you are upon your oath, amt 1 mlist ask 
you another question before 1 release you. hat were ttie exact 
words the prisoner made use of in reply to that speech of yours?” 

Again the witness hesitated for some little time. A stifled sob 
escaped her, and at last she replied, “ He told me, that whether he 
had a riuht or not, he was not going to see my name disgraced, and 
that as reasoning with me was useless, he would see what he could 
do with Hr. Cl ay ford.” 

Great sensation in court. 

” And your answer was — V” 

” None,” replied the Senora. ”1 was wild that he should pre- 
sume to doubt me; that he should dare to doubt one,” anil here the 
Senora threw back her veil, turned her tear-stained face to the court, 
and exclaimed, ” to doubt one, who was my affianced husband!” 

Again there was great sensation in the court, and the agitation of 
the prisoner was once more manifest 

” iVnd with that you separated?” 

” Yes, 1 drew my veil close down, and hurried out of the citadel 
as quickly as 1 could.” 

” Vi' hat made you leave so quickly?” 

“ It was gelling close upon the time that the gates would close; 
and I felt sure that there was no chance of meeting Mr. Clayford 
that evening.” 

” Y'ou had, of course, met him many times before in the same 
place?” 

“ Yes; or somewhere on the lampails.” 

” Y’oiihe aware. Miss Black, that Mr. Skirley is also a pretender 
to your hand?” 

” 1 hav^e been, of late,” replied the Senora, 

” YYliat, since Mr. Clay ford’s death?” 

The Senoia bowed her head in assent, while a visible shudder 
seemed to pass through her whole frame. 

” You had no idea that he entertained these feelings for you be- 
• fore?” 

” Certfiinly not!” rejoined the girl; “or,” she added contempt- 
uously, ” 1 would have given him to understand how useless such 
a feeling was on his purt.” 

” I have no more questions to ask you, Miss Black,” said the 
counsel foi (he crown, as he resumed his seat. 

But if he had not, Mr. Bloofl had; and the Senora found herself 
exposed to a maddening cross-examination, conducted in much 


STRUCK DOWX. 


105 


brusquer fashion than that by the counsel for the crown. Still, if 
Mr. Blood made the witness uncomfortable, and made the hot- 
tempered Senora more than once break out in passionate protestation 
against the questions she was asked, her evidence remained entirely 
unshaken. 

1 he next witness was a man in the employment of the canteen- 
keeper of the citadel. His testimony, though brief, was somewhat 
important. He spoke positively to having seen the prisoner loung- 
ing in the vicinity of the officers’ quarters after the gales were 
closed. He was perfectly certain of the identity of the prisoner, as 
he spoke to him and conversed with him. It was a bright mo<m- 
light night, and he could see him well. The prisoner told him he 
had come up to see Mr. Clayford, and asked him w’hich were that 
gentleman’s quarters. He pointed out what ho believed to be such, 
but was fain to confess that he did not know precisely the rooms of 
the several officers. Did not think there was anything particularly 
strange about a sailor wanting to see Mr. Clayford at that hour. 
Mr. Cla 3 dord, he knew, was given to the water, and sailors might 
want to see him about fishing or sundry other things at any lime in 
the evening. Had never seen the prisoner before. 

Mr. Pollock now stepped into the witness-box. But his evidence 
was very short, and of much less importance than his actions had 
been. He spoke to being present when the letters which Miss Black 
had acknowledged to be hers were discovered by Mr. Clay ford’s 
brother in the dispatch-box. Further, he corroborated Sergeant 
Blane's evidence as to the feasibility of an active man making his 
way out of the citadel over the rampart and across the ditch; add- 
ing, that he had himself performed that feat, in the presence ot 
Sergeant Blane. The inspector said nothing about the conversation 
he had overheard between Skirley and Marietta, rightly judging 
that what they themselves had said in the witness-box required no 
further confirmation on his part. 

The counsel, for the crown now rose and cleverl}^ reviewed the 
whole of the evidence against the prisoner. He claimed to have 
proved everything that he had stated in his opening speech. “ It is 
a case, gentlemen,” he said, in conclusion, ‘‘which rests entirely 
upon circumstantial evidence; but you must bear in mind that mur- 
der is seldom brought home to the criminal in any other light. 
Where there are witnesses to man taking the life of his fellow it 
generally resolves itself into a case of manslaughter. My case is 
finished; and after you have heard the defense, and his lordHiip’s 
comments on the case, it will rest with you to determine whether 


106 


STRUCK DOWK. 


this miirdvr has been righttull}^ or wrongfully attributed to the 
prisonei. 

As it was getting late in the afternoon. Mr. Justice Shingles sug- 
gested that it might be probably more convenient tor all parties if 
the court was adjourned until to-morrow. 

“ 1 was about/’ said Mr. Floygate, the leader of the Western 
Circuit, wdio had been retained by the “ skipper’s parlor ” for their 
comrade’s defense, “to beg your lordship to do so. 1 have just 
received some information which promises to be of the greatest im- 
portawce to my client, but have as yet had no opportunity of sifting 
It. By to-morrow morning 1 shall be quite ready to commence the 
defense.’’ 

“ Very well, then,” replied the judge, “ let it be so. The court 
is now adjourned till ten to-morrow morning.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE VEKDICT. 

When the court met the next morning, the counsel for the de- 
fense was in his place, and rose immediately. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “you heard the intricate web woven 
around my client by my learned brother yesterday. It was very 
curious that such an array of facts should have grouped themselves 
together to imperil an innocent man. My client, has hitherto kept 
his lips sealed, and actually risked his own life for the sake of 
shielding the lady to whom he was attached; sooner than she should 
be mixed up wdth such a terrible crime as this— sooner than she 
should be exposed to the odium of figuring in the witness-box and 
be cross-examined with regard to her love affairs, he has. with a 
reckless chivalry, of which perhaps only a sailor could be capable, 
risked— it is not loo much to say—his life. Gentlemen, all his 
effoits have proved vain. The lady he sougnt to save has been 
dragged into the witness-box, and, 1 regret to say, that you your 
selves witnessed yesterday what tortures the questions, which my 
duty compelled me to ask, put her to. There was no further object 
in silence, and for the first time last night we learned the whole 
sloty of that evening, as far as Captain Furness was concerned in 
it. Be has never disputed that he was in the citadel that night 
He further quite corroborates Miss Black’s evidence that he did meet 
her on the ramparts, that high words passed between them, and 
that as the^ separated he said that he would settle with Mr. Claj'- 


STRUCK DOWK. 


107 


ford. After parting willi Miss Black lie walked round the lamparts 
to the opposite side of the citadel, (hor^dghly intending to return 
and see Mr. Clay lord, and warn him that Miss Black had friends 
who would take ample revenge for any wrong done to iier, and that 
unless his intentions regarding her were strictly honorable the sooner 
he ceased liis attentions the better. Proceeding round to the front 
or the officers’ quarters he inquired of the witness who was yester- 
day before you where the deceased officer lived. T'lie witness 
pointed out what he believed to be Mr. Clayiord’s quarters, tie 
went boldly into the passage and knocked at the door, but not re- 
ceiving any answer, he came to the conclusion that Mr Clay ford 
had not returned from mess, and then resolved to obtain entrance 
to his rooms, and there wait for him, even if it were some two or 
three hours before he returned.. The range of low houses which 
constitute the officers’ quarters in the citadel are lettered botli at the 
front and back doors, instead of being numbered, as an ordinary 
terrace would be. IRy client now went round to the back to see if 
lie could obtain entrance to the house that way. He found the 
door of (he basement locked, but upon trying the kitchen window 
he discovered that it was unfastened. To throw it open and so get 
into (he basement was the easiest thing possible. He then ascended 
the stairs, hut only to find Mr. Clayford’s door locked, as he had 
done befo e. He was about to give his design up for that night, 
wlien the door of the bedroom caught his eye, he tried that, and, 
rather to his astonishment, found it intasleued. He opened it. and 
then passed on to the sitting-room, for the two rooms comuiuni- 
cated. There, to liis horror, he found Lieutenant Clayford lying 
dead upon the floor, and a discharged pistol some three or four 
paces away from him. 

“Now, gentlemen,” continued Mr, Floygate, impressively, “1 
put it to any of you; you have ente’ed a room in which 3^011 have 
no business or right to be; you discover the sole tenant of that room 
is a man who has apparently come to a violent end. When you re- 
covered from the first shock of the discovery, what would probahl}^ 
be your next feeling? Dismay at tlie critical situation in which your 
own folly had placed 3'ou. Should any one discover you there, it 
is obvious that the natural conclusion would be that you were the 
assassin. This was the terrible situation in which my client found 
himself on that Jul}^ evening. He is a man, remember, accustomed 
to confront danger, and has known before now what it is to look 
death in the face, but in all his life, 1 will venture to sa}’, he has 
never found himself in so desperate a strait as this. He did what 1 


108 


STRUCK DOWK". 


venture to su^^gest any man, who did not lose his head, would have 
done under the circumstaTices. He withdrew promptly from the 
scene ot the tragedy, but, ere he did so, he turned once more to 
}ook at the slain man. As he did so, something glittering on the 
carpet caught his eye. He stooped, picked it up, and brought it 
away with him, and it is fortunate tor him that he did so, as per- 
haps his very life hangs upon that trifling trinket. The man’s 
next instinct was naturally to save himself. He was. as it turns 
out, quite as well acquainted with that egress from the citadel 
which Sergeant Blane has described to you, and which Inspector 
Pollock seems to have praclicall}’’ tested, as either of them. He had 
got out of the citadel more than once before in similar tasliion, and 
now in his need, 1 need scarcely say, he made use of it once more. 

“ But, gentlemen, 1 arn not in the least going to confine myself 
to the mere statement of a man accused of a great crime, and to 
which circumstances at all events somewhat tend to prove that it 
was likely he may have committed. 1 have got evidence to bring 
before you that will, 1 think, go tar to show that another is very 
much more likely to have been the real culprit than my unfortunate 
client. 1 won't detain you longer. Mere talk will not vindicate the 
prisoner's reputation. 1 am about to put facts before you, and the 
sooner I commence doing so the better.” Anil then Mr. Floygate 
sat down, and the first witness tor the defense was called. 

This proved to be no other than the assistant to the canteen-keep- 
er, who had already supplied the prisoner with the information as 
to where Mr. Clayford s quarters were, and his evidenc?e fairly 
startled the court. He swore that he had known Mr. Skirley under 
the name of Bunker tor some weeks, that he was a friend of his 
master’s, w th whom he fancied he had some business relations, 
that he had more than once slept at their place, and that he did so 
on the niirht ot the murder, leaving after the gates were open in the 
morning; that some four weeks back, Mr. Bunker had asked him 
which were Mr. Clay ford’s quarters, saying that he had seen that 
young gentleman down on the Barbican, and that he had given him 
a commission to procure him a few pounds of good cigars. Mr. 
Bunker professed to trade in those and foreign spirits. Had no idea 
ot his real name or calling, until he had seen him in the witness-box 
yesterday, and had then hastened to give information to the police. 

The next witness was the canteen-keeper himself, who not only 
corroborated all that this bar-man had said, but further stated that 
^5kirle3^ alias Bunker, had arrived at the canteen between five and 
six in the afternoon, that he had had some refreshment there. At 


STEUOK DOWN. 


109 


a little alter seven he announced his intention of smoking a cigar on 
the ramparts, and did not return till past ten, which would he short- 
ly after the muraer had been committed. Did not hear the shots 
himseit, hut the canteen was the opposite side the fortress from the 
officers’ quarters. Had no idea that Mr. Bunker was a seafaring 
man. lie never dressed the least as such when he visited him. 
Tliought that he was a sort of g^ between between some of the 
merchant captains and a few odd customers on shore. Knew he 
sold ver}^ good wares at very reasonable prices. Did he suppose 
that those cigars and spirits had paid duty? Would rather not an- 
swer tliat question, at all events he knew nothing to the contrary. 

“Before calling my next witnesses,” said Mr. Floygate, “1 
must now produce to the court this very peculiar silver ring. It is, 
as yen will see, my lord, of a very uncommon pattern,” and here 
one of ihe officials of the court handed the bauble in question up to 
Mr. Justice Shingles. 

“ 1 think, my lord, both yourself and the gentlemen of the jury, 
when they have examined it, will admit that it is a ring of so un- 
common a pattern as to make an impression on most people wdio 
had once seen it. My client’s lips are sealed for the present, gen- 
tlemen, by the position in which he is placed; otherwise he would 
tell you that he picked up that ring from the side of the murdered 
man. Its very peculiarity renders it easy to identify, and 1 am 
about to call three witnesses who can tell you who is the owner of 
that ring. 1 could call half a dozen more if necessar 5 q but 1 con- 
oeive that three credible witnesses are sufficient for my purpose.” 

And then, for the first lime in his life, and greatly to his astonish- 
ment, Captain Noreton found himself in the witness-box. Yes, he 
knew the ring well; had seen it hundreds of times. Dave Skiiley 
usually wore it round his neck-handkerchef. 

John Black and another habitue of the “ skipper’s parlor ” bore 
similar testimony. 8kirley had worn that ring for some time. He 
couldn’t rightly say how long, but for some three or four years; it 
might be more. 

The excitement of the court was now intense; and Dave Skirley, 
who was among the lookers-on, felt beads of cold perspiration stand 
on his brow, as he listened to the damning evidence which was roll- 
ing up against him. He glanced uneasily round him, with the look 
of a trapped wild beast in his eyes. He was appalled by the fear of 
being recognized. Packed though he was among the crowd in the 
body of the court, already he began to fancy faces were turned his 
way. He must make his way out at all hazards. Escape he knew 


110 


STKUCK DOWl^^. 


was hopeless, but it would be a relief to avoid recognition. He 
turned to go, and in an instant a policeman had taKen him by the 
arm, and another going in iront of him, said, quietly but promptly, 
“Make way please; the gentleman is taken ill. “ And when he 
found himself outside the building he also found himself in the 
custody of the police. 

“ 1 have now,“ continued Mr. Floygate, “ another important 
witness to bring before you, wdio, though he yesterday figured as a 
witness against my client, has now some valuable evidence to give in 
his favor.” 

Inspector Pollock, being sworn, stated that in consequence of the 
information he had received last night, he had gone down by the mail 
train to Plymouth to bring up the canteen-keeper. That while there 
he thought it would be as well to search Skirley's room at the 
Golden Galleon. That he did so, and the result had been the dis- 
covery of three cailiidges exactly corresponding with those found 
in the pistol. 

As Mr Pollock left the box, Mr. Floygate rose to address the 

juiy- 

” Gentlemen,” he said, “ the case against my client rests entirely 
upon circumstantial evidence, and though, as my learned brother 
said in his opening speech, in the crime of murder we generally 
have to rely upon such, still 1 would venture to say that, awkward 
as circumstances looked against the prisoner atone time, tlie evi- 
dence wdien sifted, comes to very little. What has been proved 
against him amounts to this: He was in the citadel on the night 
of the tragedy. He met Miss Black upon the ramparts, and 
quarreled with her. He then took a turn round the fortress, 
brooding, no doubt, over bis wrongs, and finally came to the con 
elusion that he would see Mr, Claylord, point out to him that Miss 
Black was a girl not in his own station, and that if his intentions 
were not honorable concerning her, he had better abandon them, as 
there were those, foremost among w'hom was himself, who wmuld 
exact bitter reparation for any wrong done to her. With this inten- 
tion, he makes his way to the deceased’s quarters, to which he ob- 
tains access with considerable difficulty, and finds himself face to face 
with a great crime, and picturing the terrible consequences which 
would accrue to himself should he be found there, that he should 
make his escape from the citadel as soon as possible was only nat- 
ural; he admits that he did so in the manner described by Inspector 
Pollock. But, on the other hand, look at the circumstantial evi- 
dence against Dave Skirley. 1 am quite aware that we are not try- 


STKUCK DOWN. 


Ill 


ing him, and therefore shall only call your attention to a few salient 
points that testify to his detriment. Remember he acknowledged 
before j^ou yesterday, that he had the same reason tor detesting 'Mr. 
Clayford that the prisoner had, and 1 think nobody that heard the 
passionate burst, with which he confessed to it, can doubt the truth 
of his statement. He was the author of those anonymous letters, 
the object of which was, no doubt, to embroil the prisoner and the 
deceased. He, some weeks back, endeavored to ascertain which 
were Mr. Clayford’s quarters. He was in the citadel tiie whole 
night, though at the lime of the murder nobody seems to have 
known his exact whereabouts. A ring, amply identified as his, 
was found by the side of the dead man, while three cartridges cor- 
responding to those found in the pistol were discovered in his lodg- 
ings at Plymouth. The balance of testimony seems to me to weigh 
heavier against Skirley than it does against Captain Furness, so that 
it is with the most perfect confiuence I leave his fate in your 
hands.'’ And thus saying, Mr. Floy gate resumed his se>».t. 

So convinced was the counsel for the crown that they were prose- 
cuting the wrong man, that he waived his right to reply, and Mr. 
Justice Shingles proceeded to sum up, which he did, very much in 
favor of the prisoner; and then, with a few words of canlh n, beg- 
ging them to bear in mind that they were trying John Furness, and 
had nothing to do with the evidence against Skirley, further than it 
went to exonerate the prisoner, he dismissed them. 

They were not more than half an hour out of court before they 
trooped back into their box; and in reply to the clerk’s “ Gentlemen 
of the jury, ‘ Guilty or not guilty?’ ” the foieman in clear tones de- 
livered the verdict of “Not Guilt)%’’ which elicited a burst of ap- 
plause that the officials had some difficulty in suppressing. Captain 
Noreton, indeed, and one or two other prominent members of the 
“ skipper’s parlor,’’’ narrowly escaped being taken into custody, on 
account of their noisy ebullitions of satisfaction. 


“DAVE SKIRLEY ’S DOOM.” 

A VERY few days, indeed, before that assize was over, John Fur- 
ness and Dave Skirley had changed places, and it was the latter who 
now stood in the dock accused of the foul mifrder committed that 
warm July evening. As Mr. Floy gate had said, the circumstan- 
tial evidence was infinitely stronger against the present accused than 
it had ever been against John Furness; very different, too, was the 
bearing of the two men when brought to tlie bar. Whereas Furness 


112 


STRUCK DOWN-. 


had displaj’ed a gallant spirit of endurance under difiiculties mixed 
with terrible emotion when the Senora was dragged into court, Skir- 
le/ developed the sullen disposition of the human tiger brought at 
last to bay. Once again had the hapless Marietta to go into the 
witness box, and confess, while the tears scalded her eyes, to that 
shameful scene in the parlor of the Golden Galleon. Reluctantly 
did she admit that Skirley, taking advantage of his knowledge of 
her relations with Claytord, and of her having met Furness that 
night in the citadel, had attempted to extort a promise of main'age 
from her, as a condition that she should be by no means mixed ut» in 
the tragedy. How he had threatened that, if she refused his rtquest, 
she should not only be forced into the witness-box, but perhaps even 
accused of having been an accessory to the murder. By this, things 
were different. The Seuora, tor some uncalled-for reason, had be- 
come a heroine, instead of merely a young woman who had made a 
woful mess of her love affairs. The sympathies of the public were 
-with her, and as a matter of course, popular feeling ran high against 
the prisoner at the bar. As tor Inspector Pollock, irritated by his 
first mistake, he was simply untiring in riveting the chain of evi- 
dence around his whilom comrade; and a good deal of slight confir- 
matory evidence did beget together within the feu days that (lapsed 
between the acquittal of John Furness and the arraignment of David 
Skirley for the willful muriler of Charles Clayford. 

Two days’ impartial investigation resulted in overwhelming evi- 
dence against the prisoner. The judge, who summed up most 
conclusively against him, concluded in these words: “ And, gentle- 
men, if in consideration of all the evidence that has been placed be- 
fore you, you come to the conclusion that the prisoner is guilty, and 
1 regret to say it seems difficult to arrive at any other opinion, you 
must bear in mind that you had to try and determine one of the 
most atrocious and dastardly crimes it has ever been my lot to see 
brought before a court of justice. Not only has the prisoner in his 
infatuation for JMiss Black, whom, 1 am bound to say, as far as we 
can see, never gave him the faintest encouragement, apparently taken 
the life of one of his rivals, but has actually entertained the revolt- 
ing idea of getting ric^of his s^^cond rival, John Furness, by allow- 
ing him to suffer for the crime which he himself had comruitted. In 
short, gentlemen, bear in mind, that if after due consideration you 
find the prisoner guilty of the murder of the late Cbaih s Clayford, 
he further nearly accomplished a second and still more shameful 
murder, insomuch as he allowed an innocent man to be tried for the 
Clime which he himself had committed.” 


STEUCK DOWN. 


113 


A short delay, and a verdict of “ Guilty ” was recorded against 
David Skirley, and onceniore the officials of the court baa trouble in 
suppressing the approval of those boisterous Devonshire throats. 
And then solemnly and impressively Mr. Justice Shingles passed 
sentence ut the extreme penalty of the law. 

A^'hether Marietta and Jack Furness came together in the sequel 
1 must leave my readers to coujecture. No girl could have tailed 
lo be touched by the almost wild chivalry of a lover who had risked 
his life to save her appearance in a court of law. Sore from all she 
haa gone through; sick at heart from the awful tragedy in which 
her first love affair had ended, ii was hardly likely that Marietta 
would list to any man’s wooing for some time, let him plead ever 
so earnestly. But time softens all things, and it may be, in the 
days to come, she might listen kindly to what Jack Furness has to 
say to her. 


f 


THE END. 


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TABLE OF CONTENTS: 

How to Take Measures. Verification of the Measurements, Variable 
Measures used as Supplementary to the Fixed Measures, Variable Measures 
not forming Rectangular Diagrams, Drafts of Patterns of Dresses, Verifica- 
tion of the Patterns for a Body, Dresses for Young Girls and Children, 
General Directions for Preparing a Dress or other Garment before making il 
up. Dress with Basque, Dressing-gown, Low Body with round waist, 
Caraco, Pelerine, How to Transpose Measures, Chemise, Drawers, Aprons, 
«tc., etc. 


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LIST OF AUTHORS. 


Works by the author of “ Addie’s 
lliisbaiid.’’ 

388 Addie’s Husband; or. Through 


Clouds to Sunshine 10 

504 My Poor Wife 10 

Works by the author of “ A Great 
Mistake.” 

2^14 A Great Mistake 20 

24(5 A Fatal Dower 10 

372 Phjdlis’ Probation 10 

461 His Wedded AVife 20 

Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

5 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

17 The Wooing O’t 20 

62 The Executor 20 

180 Valerie’s Fate 10 

229 Maid. AVife. or AVidow? 10 

236 AAHiic-h Shall it Be? 20 

330 Mrs. A^erekei-’s Courier Maid. . . 10 
400 A Second Life 20 

Alison’s Works. 

104 “So Near, and Y^et So Far!”. .. 10 

278 For Life and Love 10 

481 The House That Jack Built 10 

F. Anstey’s Works. 

50 Vice Versa 20 

225 The Giant's Robe 20 

503 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 

Romance 10 

R. M. Ballantyne’s Works. 

80 The Red Eric 10 

95 The Fire Brigade 10 

96 Erling the Bold 10 

Anne Beale’s AVorks. 

188 Idouea 20 

109 The Fisher Village 10 

Basil’s AVorks, 

344 “ The AVearing of the Green ” . . 20 
647 A Coquette’s Conquest 20 


AValter Besant’s Works. 

97 AH in a Garden Fair 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

146 Love Finds the AVay, and Other 

Stories. By Besant and Rice 10 

230 Dorothy Forster 20 

324 In Luck at Last 10 

AVilliam Black’s AVorks. 

1 A^olande 20 

18 Shandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

39 In Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20 

49 That Beautiful AVretch 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 AVhite Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance 10 

78 Madcap A^iolet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth 20 

124 Three Feathers 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeiiv 20 


ISS Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 20 
265 Judith Shakespeare : Her Love 

Affairs and Otlier Adventures 20 
472 The AVise AA’’omen of Inverness. 10 

R. I>. Blackiiiore’s VA’^orks. 

67 Lorna Doone 30 

427 The Remarkable Histoiy of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M. P. 20 

Miss M. E. Braddon’s AVorks. 

35 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

56 Phantom Fortune 20 

74 Aurora Floyd ^ 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 

153 The Golden Calf 20 

204 Vixen 20 


TIIE SEASIDE LIBBABY.— Pocket Edition. 


31iss M. E. Braddoii’s Works— 


CoiitiiiiiCMl. 

211 The Octoroon 10 

234 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery. . ‘-0 

203 An Isliniaelite 20 

315 Tlie Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

bv Miss Braddon 20 

434 Wyllard s Weird 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Parti 20 

478 Diavola: or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part II.. 20 

480 Married in Haste Edited by 

]Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddou 20 

488 Joshua Haggard's Daughter 20 

489 Rupert Godwin 20 

495 IVIount Royal 20 

490 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M’.E. Braddon 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Cloven Foot 20 

511 A Strange World 20 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

Darnel 10 

548 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 

er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey 10 

552 Hostages to Fortune 20 

553 Birds of Prey.. 20 

554 Charlotte’s iidieritance. (Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey ”) 20 

557 To tbe Bitter End 20 

559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel : . . . 20 

561 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie 20 

Works by Charlotte JI. Braeine, 
Author of “ Dora Thorne.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin. 10 

51 Dora Thorne 20 

54 A Broken Weddiner-Ring 20 

68 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

69 Madolin’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love 20 

76 Wife in Name Only 20 

79 Wedded and Parted 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. . 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? 10 

237 Repented at Leisure 20 

2'49 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter ” . . 10 
250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 
ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 


291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda 10 

295 A Woman’s War 10 

296 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary's Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net *. 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement 20 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Womau’s Temptation 20 

460 Under a Sliadow 20 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

466 Between Two Loves 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly. 20 

471 Thrown on the World 20 

476 Between Two Sins 10 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce 20 

Charlotte Bronte’s Works. 

15 Jane Eyre 20 

57 Shirley 20 

Rhoda Broiiglitou’s Works. 

86 Belinda 20 

101 Second Thoughts 20 

227 Nancy 20 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man 20 

154 Annan Water 20 

181 The New Abelard 10 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan 10 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s Works. 

375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor 20 

E. Fairfax Byrrne’s Works. 

521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country Maid 20 

Hall Caine’s Works. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the World to Me 10 

Rosa Nouchette Carey’s Works. 

215 Not Like Other Girls 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. -Pocket Edition. 


Wilkie Collins’s Works. 


B, M. Croker’s Works. 


52 The New Magdalen 10 

102 The Moonstone 20 

lOr Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

175 Love’s Random Shot 10 

2;13 I Say No;” or, The Love-Let- 
ter Answered 20 

508 The Girl at the Gate 10 

Hugh Conway’s Works. 

240 Called Back 10 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 

Other Tales 10 

301 Dark Days 10 

302 'I’he Blatchford Bequest 10 

502 Carriston’s Gift 10 

525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories 10 
543 A Family Affair 20 


J. .Feniiiiore Cooper’s Works. 

60 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

63 The Spy 20 

309 The Pathfinder 20 

310 The Prairie 20 

318 Tlie Pioneers; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 20 

349 The Two Admirals. A Tale of 

the Sea 20 

359 The Water-Witch 20 

.361 The Red Rover. A Tale of the 

Sea 20 

373 Wing and Wing 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or. The 

Cliase 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

“Homeward Bound”) 20 

380 Wyandotte; or, The Hutted 

knoll 20 

385 The Headsman; or, The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons 20 

394 The Bravo 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
uer of Boston 20 

400 The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish. . . 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore 20 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“Afloat and Ashore”) 20 

415 The Ways of the Hour 20 

416 Jack'l’ier; or. The Florida Reef 20 

419 TheChainbearer; or,The Little- 

page Manuscripts 20 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 

Manuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20 

422 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or, The 

Voyage to Cathay 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or. The Bee- 

Hunter 20 

431 The Monikins *. 20 


207 Pretty Miss Neville 20 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 


Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. II 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

21 Pickwick Papers. Vol. II 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. First half. 20 
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Riidge 20 

94 Little Dorrit. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half 20 

106 Bleak House. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son 40 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend 40 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler. . . 20 

168 No Thorouglifare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. Second half 20 

439 Great Expectations 20 

440 Mrs. Lirri pel ’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

Mudfog Papers, &c 20 

454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20 

456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every -day Life and Every- 
day People 20 


F. Dll Boisgobey’s Works. 

82 Sealed Lips 20 

104 The Coral Pin 30 

264 Pi6douche, a French Detective. 10 
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

First half 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

Second half 20 

453 The Lottery Ticket 20 

475 The Prima Donna’s Husband. . 20 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or. Steel 

Gauntlets 20 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 20 


“The Duchess’s” Works. 


2 Molly Bawn 20 

6 Portia 20 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian 10 

16 Phyllis 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters 10 

30 Faith and Unfaith 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering 10 


THE SEA8IEE LIBRABY— Pocket Edition. 


“ The Duchess’s” Works— Con- 


ti iiiieil. 

110 Monica, and A Rose Distill'd. .. 10 

123 Sweet is True Love 10 

120 Rossinoyne 10 

134 Tin' Witching: Hour, and Other 

Stoiies 10 

136 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

Other Stories 10 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites — 10 

171 Fortune’s Wheel 10 

284 Doi is 10 

312 A Week in Killarney 10 

342 The Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion 10 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories . 10 

486 Dick's Sweetheai t 20 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
bara 10 

517 A Passive Crime, and Other 

Stories 10 

541 “As It Fell Upon a Day.” 10 

Alexander Dumas’s Works, 

55 The Three Guardsmen 20 

75 Twenty Years After 20 

259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 
Sequel to “The Count of 

Monte-Cristo ” 10 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part 1 20 

• 262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part II 20 

George Eliot’s Works. 

3 The Mill on the Floss 20 

31 Middlemarch 20 

34 Daniel Deronda 30 

36 Adam Bede 20 

42 Rornola 20 

G. Maiiville Feiiii’s Works, 

193 The Rosery Folk 10 

558 Poverty Corner 20 

<)cfave Feuillet’s Works, 

66 The Romance of a Poor Y^oung 

Man 10 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

Comtesse ” 10 

Mrs. Forrester’s Works. 

80 June 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales 10 

R. E. Fraiicilloii’s Works, 

135 A Great Heiress: A Fortune 

in Seven Checks 10 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables 10 

300 Ropes of Sand 20 


Emile Gahoriau’s Works. 

7 File No. 113 20 

12 Other People’s Monev 20 

20 Within an Inch of His Life 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol 1 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. H 20 

33 The Clique of Gold 10 

38 The Widow Lerouge 20 

43 The Mystery of Orcival 20 

144 Promises of Marriage 10 

Charles Gibbon’s Works. 

64 A Maiden Fair 10 

317 By Mead and Stream 20 

Miss Grant’s Works. 

222 The Sun-Maid 20 

555 Cara Roma 20 

Tliomas JEIarily’s Works. 

139 The Romantic Adventures of 

a Milkmaid 10 

530 A Pair of Blue Eyes 20 

John D, Harwootl’s Works. 

143 One False, Both Fair 20 

358 Within the Clasp 20 

Mary Cecil Hay’s Work.s, 

65 Back to the Old Ilonie 10 

72 Old Myddelt.on's Money 20 

196 Hidden Perils 10 

197 For Her Dear Sake 20 

224 The Arundel Motto 10 

281 The Squire's Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

Works by the Author of “Judith 
Wynne.” 

332 Judith Wynne 20 

506 Lady Lovelace 20 

William II, G, Kingston’s Worlcs. 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20 
133 Peter the Whaler 10 

Charles Lever’s Works. 

191 Harry Lorrequer 20 

212 Charles O’Malle}-, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Fii’sthalf 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Second half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” First 

half 20 

2-43 Tom Burke of “ Ours.” Sec- 
ond half 20 

Sir E, Bnlvver Lytfon’s Works. 

40 The Last Days of Pompeii 20 

83 A Sti-ange Story 20 

90 Ernest Maltravers 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. First 

half 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. Sec- 
ond half ■ 20 

162 Eugene Aram '. 20 

164 Leila; or. The Siege of Grenada 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. — Pocket Edition, 


George Mac<louald’s Works, 


Mrs. Oliphaiit’s Works. 


282 Donal Grant...., 20 

325 Tiie Portent 10 

326 Piiantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women 10 

Florence Marryat’s Works, 

159 A Moment of Madness, and 

Otiier Stories 10 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other 

Stories 10 

208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories 10 

276 Under tlie Lilies and Roses 10 

444 The Heart of Jane Warner 20 

449 Peeress and Player 20 

Captain Marryat’s Works. 

88 The Privateersman 20 

272 The Little Savage 10 


Helen B, 3Iatlier8’s Works. 


45 A Little Pilgrim 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

205 The Minister’s Wife 30 


321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
heritance 10 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 

the Borough of Fendie 20 

345 Madam 20 

351 The House on the Moor 20 

357 John 20 

370 Lucy Crofton 10 

371 Margaret Maitland 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation 20 

402 Lilliesleaf; or, Passages in the 
Life of Mrs Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunny side 20 

410 Old Lady Mary 10 

527 The Da\ s of My Life 20 

528 At His Gates 20 


13 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

*221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

438 Found Out 10 

Mrs, Alex, McVeigh Miller’s 
Works. 

267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

Conspiracy 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or, The 

Miser’s Treasure 20 

269 Lancaster’s Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney’s Secret 20 

Jetin Middleiiias’s Works, 

155 Lad}’’ Muriel’s Secret 20 

539 Silvermead 20 

Alan Muir’s Works. 

172 “Golden Girls” 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 


“Ouida’s” Works. 

4 Under Two Flags 20 

9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20 

116 Moths ’. 20 

128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10 

226 Friendship 20 

228 Princess Napraxine 20 

238 Pascarel 20 

239 Signa 20 

433 A Rainy June 10 

James Payn’s Works, 

48 Thicker Than Water 20 

186 The Canon’s Ward 20 

343 The Talk of the Town 20 

Mrs. Campbell Praed’s Works. 

428 Zero: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10 
477 Affinities 10 

Eleanor C. Price’s Works. 

173 The Foreigners 29 

331 Gerald 20 


Miss Mu lock’s Works, 


11 John Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy 10 

David Christie Murray’s Works, 

58 By the Gate of the Sea 10 

195 “The Way of the World ” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

W. E. Norris’s Works. 

184 Thirl by Hall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

355 That Terrible Man 10 

500 Adrian Vidal 20 

Eaureuce Oliphant’s Works. 

47 Altiora Peto 20 

637 Piccadilly 10 


Charles Reade’s Works. 

46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater 20 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

Trades 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events 10 

213 A Terrible Temptation 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

216 Foul Play -0 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy... 20 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Perilous 

Secret 10 

235 “It is Never Too Late to 
Mend.” A Matter-of-Fact Ro- 
mance 20 

“Rita’s” Works. 

252 A Sinless Secret 10 

416 Dame Durden 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBIIAEY.— Pocket Edition. 


F. W. Robin son's Works. 

157 Milly’sHem ^0 

217 The Man She Cared For 20 

201 A Fair Me id 20 

455 Lazarus in Loudon 20 

W. Clark RnsselFs Worli^. 

85 A Sea Queen 20 

109 Little Loo 20 

180 Round the Galle}’ Fire 10 

209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate.. 10 
223 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

Sir Walter Scott’s Works. 

28 Ivanhoe 20 

201 The Monastery 20 

202 The Abbot. (Sequel to “ The 

Monastery ”) 20 

353 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
g-end of Montrose 20 

3G2 The Bride of Laminermoor 20 

363 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

364 Castle Dangerous 10 

391 'I’he Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak 20 

393 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverley 20 

417 Tlie Fair Maid of Perth; or, St. 

Valentijie’s Day 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

463 Redgauntlet. A Tale of the 

Eighteenth Century 20 

507 Clironicles of the (janongate, 

and Other Stories 10 

Hawley Smart’s Works. 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance 20 

367 Tie and Trick 20 

550 Struck Down 10 

Frank E. Siiiedley’s Works. 

333 Frank Fairlegh ; or, Scenes 
from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or, The Rail- 
road of Life 20 


Eugene Sue’s Works. 

270 The Wandering Jew. Parti... 20 

270 The Wandering Jew. Part II.. 20 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Parti. 20 
271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 20 

William M. Thackeray’s Works. 


27 Vanity Fair 20 

165 The History of Henry Esmond. 20 

464 'Fhe Newcomes. Part P. 20 

464 The Newcomes. Part H 20 

531 Tiie Prime Minister (Pt half).. 20 
531 The Prime Minister (2d hall).. 20 

Annie Thomas’s Works. 

141 She Loved Him ! 10 

. 142 Jenifer 20 


Anthony Trollop<»'s Works. 


32 The Laud Leaguers 20 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 20 

147 Rachel Ray ^ 

200 An Old Man’s Love 10 

.lilies Verne’s Works. 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen ! 20 

100 20.000 Leagues Under the Seas. 20 
368 The Southern Star; or, the Dia- 
mond Laud 20 

395 The Arclupelago on Fire 10 

E. B. Wal ford’s Works. 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother 10 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 20 
258 Cousins 20 

F. Warden’s Works. 

192 At the World’s Mercy 20 

248 TJte House on the Marsh 10 

286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand 20 

482 A Vagrant Wife 20. 

556 A Prince of Darkness ^ 

G. J. Whyte-Melville’s Works. 

409 Roy’s Wife 20 

451 Market Ilarborough, and Inside 

the Bar 20 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 

8 East Lynne 20 

255 4’he Mystery 20 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

508 The Uniioly Wish 10 

513 Helen Wliitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales ‘. 10 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s Works. 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 Tlie Tliree Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish. ATale 10 

Miscellaneous. 

53 The Story of Ida. Francesca. . 10 
71 A Struggle for Fame. Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell.. 10 

105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mai k. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. M. G. 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J. 

Eiloai t 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 
Rugby. Thomas Hughes — 20 


TEE SEASIDE LIBTtAUY. —Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Continued, 

121 Maid of Athens. Justin Mc- 


Carthy 20 

122 lone Stewarl;. Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

127 Adrian Brig:lit. Mrs. Caddy 20 

149 The Captain’s Dauj'hter. From 

tile Russian of Pusiikin 10 

150 For Himself Alone. T. W. 

Speight 10 

151 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

ervvick 10 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

15S The Starling. Norman Mac- 

leod, D.D 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tyt- 

ler 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 
Lord Lytton 10 

163 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

170 A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus 30 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An Api il Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie Jeplison 10 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in the Highlands. 
Queen Victoria 10 

179 Little Make-Believe. B. L. Far- 

jeon 10 

182 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun, Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

108 A Husband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 

O’Rell 10 

218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20 

219 Lady Clare : or. The Master of 

the Forges. From French of 

Georges Obnet 10 

242 The Two Orphans. D'Ennery. 10 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer , . 10 
257 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

273 Love and Mirage; or, The Wait- 

ing on an Island. M. Beth- 
am-Ed wards 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 

I^rincess of Great Bi itain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Sumner Hay- 
den 20 

285 The Gambler's Wife 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. Margaret 

Veley.: 10 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 


The Lover’s Creed. Mrs. Cash- 


el Hoey 20 

Peril. Jessie Fothergill 20 

A Woman’s Love-Story 10 

A Willful Maid 20 

Raymond’s Atonement. E. 

VVerner 20 

The Polish Jew. (Translated 
from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckrnann Chat- 
rian 10 

May Blossom ; or, Between Two 

Loves. Margaiet Lee 20 

A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

The White Witch 20 

Philistia. Cecil Power 20 

The Family Difficulty. Sarah 

Dbudney 10 

Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

Madolin Rivers; or, The Little 
Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Laura Jean Libbev 20 

As Avon Flows. Heniy Scott 

Vince 20 

Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith 10 

At Any Cost Edward Garrett. 10 
The Lottery of Life. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 

Ago. John Brougham 20 

The Princess Dagornar of Po- 
land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 
A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 


\.A ^ v/ i ^ ^ ^ Xllw X'./l 

tunes of a Minstrel. Tony- 

Pastor 20 

The Mysterious Hunter; or, 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

The bead Man’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

The Crime of Christmas Day. 
The author of “My Ducats 

and My Daughter” 10 

The Red Cardinal. Frances 
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Introduced to Society. Hamil- 
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An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
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My Friends and I. Edited by 

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429 Boulderstoue ; or, New Men and 

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430 A Bitter Reckoning:. Author 

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432 The Witch’s Head. H. Rider 

Haggrard 20 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

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436 Stella. Fanny Lewaid 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. ^ 

442 Riinthorpe. George Henry 

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443 The Bachelor of the Albany... 10 
450 Godfrey Helstone. Georgiana 

M. Craik 20 

452 In the West Countrie. May 

Croniinelin 20 

457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 

4.58 A Week of Passion ; or, The 
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462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
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With forty-two illustrations 

by John Tenniel 20 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

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473 A Lost Son. Maiy Linskill 10 


474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

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479 Louisa. Katharine S. Maequoid 20 

48S Betwixt I\l 3 ' Love and Me 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

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491 Society in London. A Foreign 

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492 Mignon; or. Booties’ Bab^". Il- 

lustrated. J. S. Winter 10 

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1259 Valerie’s Fate 10 

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1721 The Executor 20 

1934 Mrs. Yereker’s Courier Maid 10 

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417 Macleod of Dare 20 

451 Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

568 Green Pastures and Piccadilly 10 

816 White Wings: A Yachting Romance 10 

826 Oliver Goldsmith 10 

950 Sunrise: A Story of These Times 20 

1025 The Pupil of Aurelius 10 

1032 That Beautiful Wretch 10 

1161 The Four MacNicols 10 

1264 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands 10 

1429 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

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1683 Yolande 20 

1893 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love Affairs and other Advent- 
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MISS M. E. BRA^DDON'S WORKS. 

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69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

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109 Eleanor’s Victory 20 

114 Darrell Markham 10 

140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

322 Dead-Sea Fruit 20 

459 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

469 Rupert Godwin 20 


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